Dig
by Yukihapax
Summary: Sometimes it's easier just keeping up with the idea the others have of ourselves instead of recognizing the different paths and the different possibilities we have. Or maybe everything stays the same just because people keep changing. Is there a chance to do things again, to do them better, to do them freely?
1. Chapter 1

**DIG**

**01 - Heavy Refrain **

The man furrowed his brows and submerged the spoon in his breakfast cup full of cereals, the milk spilling out a little on the wooden table.

He was tall, dark-haired, truly handsome and perpetually sullen.

For his thoughts, that morning as usual, were "casually" lingering on a certain bat-like person.

There were as much reasons as the stars in the sky at night he loathed Snape.

First of all, he was himself – no mystery – and this had always been the real disgraceful reason since the very start of their…their unnamed relationship.

That thin, ugly and despicable creepy weirdo had always been too much of an undeserved challenge for his own pride , his own universal righteousness, even for his own beauty…

How did he possibly dare to have such a horrible…Wait, wait, wait, first of all…How did he possibly EXIST?

Tha dark-haired man untidily munched his cereals, full of surprised concern.

How spiteful, harassing, deceitful…

He kept refraining all his blurry and shocked emotions, almost like he never noticed enough his feeling of hatred and mistrust.

It was like that was the very first morning of realization - a morning that was following an undefined number of other mornings, about all the same.

Sipping lazily from the coffee mug, he told himself he was having a solid revelation, no doubts about it..

He hated Snape, and that was all, ladies and gentlemen, you can go home now…

So guilty, so wrong, so full of himself, so twisted in his mind…

How dared he being so highly respected by Dumbledore?

To think that he was trapped in that old damned house instead…

The man gulped down the rest of his milk and munched some buttered bread.

The thing was – and this annoyed him above every other consideration – that poisonous half-man could actually display his magic skills and powers, while he was forced to stay home, forced to hide his true identity.

And this, unfortunately, had nothing to do with the truth, the only proof of his innocence gone with that cursed, somber hairless rat he once had treated as a friend.

The man sighed, and plunged his long finger in the raspberry jam he loved so much, sipping it absent-mindedly.

How could Snape possibly be…so…so _Snapish_?

These and many others were Sirius' concerns during that early breakfast time, whilst late autumn daylight bathed gracefully the table and his own beautiful face features.

_Creeeek_

The kitchen door was lightly parted by a pale hand.

Sirius jerked his head a little, still savoring his own finger.

The well-known unreadable and grumpy expression of Severus Snape locked its judgmental look on Sirius relaxed body.

Sirius stiffed all at once, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

Snape took a few steps in the room and gathered himself in front of the crackling fireplace.

The man looked horrible…well, at least more horrible than usual, totally tuckered out.

He took a seat in front of the fireplace, ignoring Sirius, took off his thick dark cloak and stayed there without any more movements.

Sirius was a little surprised…Snivellus wasn't even trying to mock or scoff him for some useless reason.

The man was totally awry, maybe he had a tough night due to the Order's shifts.

While in the middle of the room Snape kept ignoring him, Sirius plug up the jam jar and stood up.

He silently started busying himself with a kettle and some water, rapidly heated with the tip of his wand.

Then he searched pell-mell throughout teabags boxes, choosing a strong-flavored green leaves tea - the bag a bit battered but still usable.

He handed the fuming cup to Snape, touching him lightly on the shoulder.

Snape jolted at the contact and almost lost his adamantine temper while looking to an appallingly kind Sirius Black handing him a hot delicious cup of steaming tea.

The tired man didn't spill a single venom-word of his and started sipping the tea silently.

Sirius shuffled himself away from the kitchen and he thought that could be considered a bit of a break to the usual, heavy refrain between the two of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**02 – Rusty **

When the door closed back, Severus faintly curled up his lips.

The tea THAT IDIOT had just given him was utterly horrid, the teabag probably molded and the mug poorly chipped.

The worst part was that THAT IDIOT – oh, how bloody irritating it was, only Merlin knew, – had just picked up _his favourite_ tea brew, yes please, green, no lemon, no sugar, no milk.

Sour, bitter, kind of unripe, if you want to know, thanks.

Just like Snape himself, maybe.

Anyway, he sipped the hot liquid, shivering a little again, from the head to the toes.

He had spent quite the horrible day, going back and for…

OH – NOT TO MENTION that THE IDIOT dared touching him on the shoulder with his hideous fingertips.

Like he could understand his actu…LIKE HELL he could, couldn't he?

He…HOW COULD HE…How could…?!

He shivered again and again, in waves of tiredness.

His bones were all aching, complaining about the extra night spent on reinforcing his own mind defenses while stealthily watching over the Potter boy.

Yes, that one.

The Golden Boy.

So tiresome…and still – so damned precious.

And damned also he was, wasn't him?

He snorted almost silently.

How ridiculous, now, going _so very sentimental. _

…for sure, bet it was the warm tea THE IDIOT offered him that started creating this awfully state of mind.

He felt fucking moody once in a lifetime and he couldn't bear with it.

He was Severus Snape.

He wasn't simply meant to be moody.

To be honest, he wasn't meant to be at all.

But this was another long story – he thought, striping his cynicism with the black delicious humor of his (the best potion of mind, if he had to admit it) - and the daylight was creeping up, so he had to savor his last few moments in peace before the despised sun would pop up and flicker everything with its yellowish intruding light.

Perhaps Snape wasn't meant to be in light too…

His body felt suddenly heavy and his mind went blank, releasing all the tension that had clumped up in his brain for more than three days.

For he felt he was a man with a very sharp mind, always paying attention to details and, actually, always obsessing over them, recording everything and everyone while passing for unobserved or at least mildly hated.

Funny how things had rolled back and forth as now as back then…Severus snapped his tongue again in disapproval: that wacky, OLD FOOL was going to ruin them all for sure!

And in a short lapse of time too, you can bet on it!

If only he could…

_STUMP STUMP STUMP -_

Severus lifted his head a little, upset by the sudden stomping noise.

Indeed, THAT IDIOT was again up to something strange.

Yes, none other than THAT freaking weirdo…

Nonetheless he didn't really care.

(yeah, why caring about THAT IDIOT, anyway? THAT ONE…)

He rested his slightly trembling forehead on the mug in his hands and closed his heavy-lidded eyes.

Resuming his temporary state of things, he knew there was no point of coming back – and to be truly honest, he had been knowing it from the very start.

Oh, no forgiveness for him, not at all, except in exchange for a bloody sacrifice – clap your hands, ladies and gentlemen, clap them hard!

So, in the end they were all intended to be THAT OLD FOOL guinea pigs, and the worst part (yes, Severus's best were always the "worst parts") was that he was being so very eager to fall in this trap by his own will.

Classily, he simply had come up with the noble idea of amend his own crimes.

Merely, he simply had his core torn by guilt and his brain fucked up by decades of disturbed, abnormal and dysfunctional affective relationships.

Let alone the twisted connection with THE OLD FOOL, who commanded him like a master with his lackluster puppet and, at the same time, who cared for him in a sort of unhinged sincere way.

Yet, seen through Snape's eyes, amongst all the freaks he had stumbled upon during his tormented life, the OLD FOOL was maybe the ODDEST of them all.

Sickening with love, one would say, overflowing with love, love for everything, love for everyone – so righteous, so eccentrically good, so mischievously shining, so crazily unbearable – and love even for Severus, for the discharged shade of a man he was.

And the OLD FOOL, most surprisingly, was also one of his last friends…well, to say it properly he has been his only friends in quite a while.

Fine, – Snape could not tolerate to lie to himself – maybe he had been his only true friend ever.

The more he got acquainted to this dismal idea, the better he could stop roaming around the same hazy and dull thoughts he was rummaging now…

Eventually, his brain just hushed.

The day forthcoming, the room was silent, filled only with the muffled sound of crackling fire flames.

Snape felt mysteriously cozy.

Those were, in fact, his only precious few hours at dawn in which he could slack off a bit.

His weariness growing day by day, some new (and partly unwanted) habits strangely guided him to rest on THAT old and worn-out couch, to stop by THAT silent and neglected house and to invariably meet THAT proud, pig-headed, useless master of the house.

Upstairs, as to tag along with Snape's silent conversation, the over-mentioned master of the house answered back – clearly an _old habit_ of his – with a loud _RUUUMBLE_, a harsh rapping and a series of _THUDS_, followed by the familiar _STUMP STUMP STUMP_…

Severus snorted again, this time louder, rolling his eyes reluctantly to the ceiling.

Meanwhile Sirius Black let a series of really heavy objects fall to the ground, causing Snape's nerves to jump and his head to jerk, his early grudge by now converted to plain headache.

Severus felt he could strangle that cocky bastard anytime now…the tiniest signs of everything coming from THAT TWIT had the irritating intensity to bother him deeply like nothing else.

In that moment he realized the depth of something he re-discovered everyday with pure disdained incredulity: he hated THAT scornful gaze – OH, how he hated it! –, his bright eyes always glistening over something; THAT snobbish (and ignominiously attracti – CRAP, Severus could not hide the thought, he had already well-formed it) display of his features ; THAT peculiar way he had to protrude his hard-lined lips – always full of blatant and ungraceful words – and to show his teeth , like a dominating male dog, just like he was not to be questioned, just like he was just to be followed or believed - ABSOLUTELY OBNOXIOUS…!

He couldn't stand Sirius Black, for a renowned number of very clear reasons that in that precise moment showered him in a bath of repressed and mostly unmotivated anger.

So nonchalant, so uncaring, so hatefully amiable and at ease, so _adorably_ restless…yes, _adorably_, just as every bloody bullshit he did or said was acceptable, tolerable, even _COOL…_

He could effortlessly rule everybody, couldn't he?

_Mpf_..

It was so irritating he could shout for minutes…

And in that precise moment, ironically in time, Black slammed the kitchen door:

- What the…!- he exclaimed in a funny-sort of voice, noticing Snape's presence.

Snape slightly turned to him and prepared to some other mean words.

They didn't come.

He was warmed up and a bit scruffy due to a big lumpy sack he was now carrying into the room.

Long, waved curls stranded in his shoulders, the grey eyes scrutinizing and his big hands reddened by the effort.

The man crammed the sack on a corner, still panting a little for the hard work.

- What the heck are you doing here?-

Black stopped near the couch, the hand resting inquiringly on his hips, and Snape fixed back his curious clear eyes.

- None of your business, Black. -

Calm and frank at first, Black's look became instantly vibrant and scorching.

- Well, Snivellus, dear, since this shack belongs to the undersigned – his voice rose, it became malicious and ready to sting - I can say I want your horrible hooked nose out of my kitchen…you know, it could poison my eyesight… -

He sported a quick catlike expression.

Snape ignored him.

- Mpf. –

- So, how did you like huddling up next to the fireplace, little Snapey? Uh? Did you purred under the blanket? Do you need a hug?-

Severus erected his back, like an upset snake woken up by something very unpleasant.

Without showing his bothered self, he stood up and gathered his cloak.

He would definitely seal that insolent jabbering mouth.

- Yes, certainly this glorious shack is successfully saving the world, if this was what you were trying to remark. –

He almost hissed, staring up at Sirius, a bit taller, his shoulder a lot broader.

Sirius instantly shoved his teeth – as expected – and Snape exhibited a carefully chosen venom-smirk.

He knew he had subtly poked that weak point of his, in other words Black's incapability to forget that he was permanently stuck in Grimmauld Place, unable to do or move as he wished.

- Well, I must say – added Snape, showing off his superiority – you really are doing well as a coolie (he pointed cruelly the sack), so much that I should let you tidy up my office every now and then.-

Black literally growled to this and mechanically jolted tenaciously towards the other.

- And as you can see, yes, even you can understand something so easy, this is what's most suited to someone so remarkably unwitting and inadequate to do any other thing. You can leave the difficult and risky tasks to the others, don't take it as a private matter.-

Snape shoved the empty mug in Sirius' hands and adjusted the cloak on his shoulder.

- Yousonofa…-

- Now, since I certainly hardly ever desired to meet you so early in the morning, I shall go and leave this shabby place of yours. – finished Snape with a satisfied tone.

He surpassed Black and approached the ajar door.

- And I suggest you to learn how to serve a proper tea to your guest, if you want to become a good housewife.-

He went out and the door finally wobbled back to his place.

Once closed, Snape used it to rest upon with his back for a second or two.

He sighed and closed his tired eyes.

At the same moment, he heard the sound of a smashing mug over the wooden boards behind his shoulders.

He shouldn't have provoked him and he knew it.

If an enormous part of him now smirked nastily to his spiteful words, a tiny one was on the contrary pretty bewildered.

After all, within all the prejudices he had on THAT IDIOT, he was at first being polite.

Snape, however, had at once refused his "temporary-peace" offer, he had set himself ready for the battle, right away.

And, again - for Merlin's beard this was becoming an obsession – the worst part was that under everything he saw just his old, uneasy true self, just shielding from the unknown.

In fact, he simply wasn't used to share a room with Black all alone and this same old insecurity of his had led to their usual senseless behavioral pattern.

He was intended to be Snape, after all, and this could not be changed, not even by the dear OLD FOOL so in love with love…

But behind his childish act there was another unpleasant and unspoken truth – and the thought attached fiercely on in his tired mind for all the rest of the day (so much that he actually almost broke Longbottom's table due to the loss of his temper).

While Black strangely had seemed to be casual and even had disposed to show more politeness, he simply couldn't get to scratch the rusted surface of his own person, he could not speak truly, he could not behave not even once as he really desired.

For he was trapped, that's all, and that's the reason why he was sometimes waiting the bloody dawn on that horrible couch, that's the reason why he felt so closer than anyone to that grungy shack.

It's because there were ten or eleven seconds, during sun rising, it all felt a bit like a home.

And yes, crazy but true, it felt like he was actually part of it.

He Disapparated near Hogsmade and asked Rosmerta to pour him something very heavy and dry.

He felt shockingly awry.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

YUKI: ok, no time for comments now, I'll do them later. ONLY A THING: if you see grammar mistakes, please write me and I'll correct them as soon as possible. It's like I'm getting blind, I cannot see them anymore.

BYE!


	3. Chapter 3

**03 – Vermillion **

The day was luminous and bright, despite the incoming winter, and outside the number twelve of Grimmauld Place leaves were twirling happily in the cold wind.

Inside the hidden house, the kitchen in the basement was crammed up with a little crowd of speaking folks, different in shapes, colours and robes.

The tones, though, were not friendly at all, and a lot of concerned faces could be seen around the old wooden dining table – full of maps, notes, quills and ink bottles.

Sirius slammed his hand on that messy surface and stood up, his face red and his eyes already sparkling with rage.

- THIS IS ABSOLUTELY OUT OF THE QUESTION!- he shouted, his yell followed by a swarming carpet of confused remarks and objections.

- Sit down, Sirius!- called sharply Remus almost at the same time, grasping his friend by the sleeve of his scruffy faded sweater.

- NO, I WON'T,REMUS!- he tugged his jumper back.

- BUT YOU HAVE TO!- Remus stood up too, facing the raging friend.

- This is madness…we should calm down…- said Shacklebolt in his deep voice and Moony and Padfoot went back down to their seats.

Remus sank the hands in his almondy hair, Sirius crossed his arms, his lips twitching furiously.

- We should really consider this suggestion…if Dumbledore agrees…- started again Arthur.

- NONSENSE! Sirius is right! – bellowed Molly, strangely agreeing with Sirius – this is too dangerous…and also the boy…-

- Molly, we're all already in danger, Harry is too…- sentenced Tonks thoughtfully.

- No more delays on our schedule…GET A GRIP OF YOURSELF,BLACK!- shouted suddenly Mad-eye.

They were all talking together, in a fuzzy and shouting confused cloud of words.

Snape had suggested a different strategy to plan the Order's shifts but this idea had some very bold features. Dumbledore, however, had given his complete _carte blanche_ to the plan and now the Order was discussing it.

Sirius was completely against it, because Harry was much more exposed this way and he couldn't cope with the idea of his god-child left for some hours without protection, especially during nocturnal periods. But it was true: they had to concentrate on the night shifts on the Ministry if the wanted to catch the enemy red-handed…

Still, that very idea sounded mendacious to Sirius because it had been put together by THAT distrustful mouth.

HIS mouth.

Sure enough, THAT BASTARD, the one who handed them off that mess, was now sitting all in silence and satisfied.

Oh, he was so impassive – nothing new – but he had the true power of angering him, somehow, deep inside…

He lifted his eyes and intertwined them with Snape's.

The other man seized the moment of confusion; he clicked almost imperceptibly his mouth and smirked, his expression an unctuous triumph.

- YOU SHIFTY BASTARD!- Sirius exploded for a second time, almost tossing himself over the table.

- SIRIUS!- barked Remus.

Snape nearly didn't move and Sirius lost his mind.

- BASTARD!- Sirius shouted again and while among the others erupted a solid wave of complaint, Snape simple asserted:

- Quit it, Black…-

He shot Sirius a very unpleasant look of authority.

- Shut-the-fuc-

- Tsk, what an _attention-seeker_…- Snape turned his head away, solemnly, and Sirius felt a real burning wrath smothering his breath away...

- Merlin, I SWEAR I'll k- he began, practically on the verge of exploding.

Remus seized him again and this time his grasp didn't show any mercy.

His hot-headed friend came back to where he was supposed to be, still scowling at Snape who kept ignoring everything and everybody.

- Sirius, just sit down, this is an important meeting, we have to cooperate, remember Dumbledore's words?-

- I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! I don't…- Sirius pointed out his hated enemy - And he's laughing too! LOOK! Look, Remus…-

But his voice grew weary since the others had started once again to discuss all together.

- NOW ENOUGH!- shouted Molly, and in the end everybody slowly went silent.

- So, are we approving the motion or not?- Asked Arthur in a resolute way.

- Let's put it to vote. Rise your hands if you agree.- ordered Moody, obviously agreeing to the change of plans.

And the hands went up in the air and the motion was approved.

- The motion is approved. We adjourn the meeting.- asserted Shacklebolt and at once all the chairs moved in a trail into the floor.

Wizards and witches started talking each other in little groups, someone chilling out, someone hastily running away – the cloak hanging at midair, someone already accepting Molly's sweet and tea treat.

In a corner of the kitchen, Remus looked concerned at his stricken friend: Sirius was practically fuming, his legs shaking and his fists squeezed.

He decided he had to do something – the old habit of a pacemaker…But he wouldn't have never meddled if Sirius hadn't been so afflicted.

Remus stood up and reached Snape who was already going away.

- Severus…a word…please…-

Snape stopped and turned back but he spoke first:

- Not my fault if that exceptional imbecile of your _dear friend _can't control himself.- stated Snape

- I bet you could try har- started Remus, as diplomatic as always.

- I don't have the slightest intention.- promptly Snape answered.

- I'm sure you could stop provoking him.-

- I am NOT.-

Snape fixed his dark spiteful eyes beyond Remus shoulder: Sirius was coming in that direction.

And when the dark-haired man reached out for Snape and Moony, all the three of them cautiously put a hand on their pocket, ready to grab a wand.

The others kept chit-chatting but the three men stood there, frozen.

It seemed a loud blast of Stunning Spell was ready to burst out at any time now.

- Severus, dear, would you mind joining us for a cup of tea?-

Molly's voice came chirping in between them, a little quivering a little worrying.

Then, very quickly, Remus grabbed Sirius and went out of the room, while Severus seemed trapped in Molly's domestic web of concerns – and the scene immediately became oddly funny.

But Remus had rushed away, tucking Sirius with him in the old, dusty living room where the ancient tapestry towered them.

- Sirius…- sighed Remus in a sort-of-disconsolate voice.

- Moony – and Sirius gnashed his teeth – I'm killing him. I mean it.-

- I know, that's why I'm troubled.-

- He deserves it. He's been insulting me from the very beginning…Plus he's a _dick_.-

Remus expression softened a little: those shaken eyes were still his old friend's ironical ones.

- You should try your best. For Harry's sake.-

- I am trying, believe me, I am…it's not my fault…he just drives me mad…-

- Mpf. You sound exactly like a teenage spoiled brat.-

Snape had just appeared from the door.

- WHAT NOW? – howled Sirius – Eavesdropping, too?!-

- Chill out, Black, I just wanted to make things clear once for all.-

The Potion Master took a few steps towards the two friends.

Sirius heated once more while Remus, a bit startled, approached Snape a little:

- Severus, please, I'm trying to help, why won't we-

- Always letting the bride speak in your place, aren't you?-

Snapped back Snape, watching Sirius with a challenging look.

Sirius grey eyes grew colder and livider in a moment.

- _Shut the fuck up, Snivellus.-_

Snape's expression got suddenly pissed off.

- _QUIT CALLING ME LIKE THAT- _he hissed, articulating each and every letter, his voice very low.

- Uh-oh, see Remus, our little Snivelly got angry…-

- Sirius, please…-

But Sirius wasn't listening at all and kept his unbearable scornful tone.

- Yeeeeah, little Sniv, why don't you go back to your filthy dang-cauldrons and your stinky troll-potions?-

- Merlin beard's…Sirius…quit this…- Remus was really uncomfortable.

- Don't bother, Lupin - Severus stood face to face in front of Sirius – You know, at least _I can come and go _whenever I like.-

He jerked his head triumphantly to Sirius who was left speechless for a second or two.

- Tell me, Black, isn't it a bit useless concerning about night shifts, given the fact that you DON'T ATTEND THEM?-

- Severus! I MUST ASK YOU TO LEAVE US.-

- Why? Worried about the truth?-

Snape suddenly beheld Remus' face like it was the most hilarious thing in the world, then locked again his gaze to Black's.

- Worried your beastly mate, here, will go crazy at any time now? Worried about the tiny net of lies still protecting him?-

Remus stared Sirius horrified: Padfoot appeared astonished, petrified.

Snape had hit the whole matter on the nail: he cackled cruelly.

- _You son of the ugliest witch.-_ murmured Sirius.

Snape quivered faintly, almost glued to Sirius' nose.

- What, Black? What?-

- Out of my house. _NOW_.-

- Oh, no need to say that. I won't waste any more minute here.- snorted Snape.

- Then disappear, you absolute scum of a wizard!- growled Sirius.

Snape clicked again his lips, his voice measured and his face naughty again.

- Keep insulting me, Black, at least you'll have something to do during the day instead of putrefying in this empty house.-

And with these last words he stormed away, leaving Sirius dumbfounded and Remus completely thunderstruck.

:::::::::

Severus Disapparates on 12, Grimmauld Place's entrance stairs.

Snow is now falling in a thick frozen layer and he feels totally worn out.

He is starting to lose sensibility on his lower limbs: four days have passed since he last slept in a cozy bed.

It has also been a while since he last stayed on Black's house.

_Brrrrr_

He shivers – a bit mentally, a lot physically - and tries to ignore his incoming temperature.

One always has to keep to the facts.

The facts are simple, the fact are trustful.

Fact one: he's freezing and he's probably ill.

Fact two: he's searching his comfort on THAT IDIOT's miserable house again.

Fact three: no matter how things evolve in the end they invariably tend to fight.

Unavoidable, like the moon follows the sun in the sky every damned night.

It's even worse than in the past, worse than he could ever imagined.

It is like they start burning every time they meet.

Their eyes run into each other and they quickly flinch, shouting for every little thing, wildly throwing explicit insults and rather unspoken implications.

Severus knows he always looks so measured, calm, but the truth – uh, frail and astounding, as usual – is that he basically can't force himself to ignore Black childish reprisals.

He drinks every little toxic mean word like his daily-deserved poison.

Just like he can't get enough.

Again and again, slamming their beaten selves onto each other.

Drawing out their flickering wands, menacing to hurt, mutilate, _kill…_and offend, offend, offend.

And the other man, unfortunately (or not) seems to have a bottomless fantasy.

He never disappoints Severus expectations.

Really, it's like hearing some silly but pleasant song at the radio – nor that Severus is ever listening to it,but… –, just like a funny rigmarole to let your children remember some funny spell: old ignominious _bat_; you _failed ghost_ of an alchemist; you shitty _Death-Eater_; you useless _scumbag_; you filthy _goblin_…

And the worst of them all: you _COWARD._

Well, well, well, now, what a temper!

Black always let his hippogriffs run wild, you can bet on it.

But Severus is not a silly man.

Somehow he knows, he can tell from his anxiety, from the way his chest squirms every time this happens.

This is just as another complex little theatre in which he is strictly meant to be himself.

The most loathing one, the most hideous of all his "Snapes", with the black wing-like cloak, the perfectly polished buttons, the bigoted collar and all the rest.

Somber, really.

But somehow hilarious, isn't it?

Obviously you can't get the satirical part, but Severus can, Severus knows.

He daily sees the deathly sarcasm hanging above all their fragile lives.

Ready to hard-fall on their heads...- Oh, THAT OLD POWERFUL FOOL, his going to play a nasty prank to them all, OH, HOW NASTY…Uohohoho…Severus can really tell!

…How tedious this life, sometimes, really.

And how tedious Black too, unthankful and childish.

Always complaining, always whining about things: hasn't he already understood?

Life isn't a matter of fairness.

Life is tough, horrible, unpleasant.

Life is ugly – you all ask Severus, really, he can show you a pretty large set of examples of it.

But no, for Merlin's sake, Black refuses this simple truth.

His sensitiveness is far from being attentive to all this – no mystery.

And Severus is highly annoyed by his incapability of going further their clash, their harsh words…

AH!Speaking about being annoyed: does that git of a werewolf really have to always intrude? How absurd trying to revise Black's stupidity – _oh poor little lad_, right, uh? It's like he has to pamper that ridiculous idiot, no matter what.

Now that he thinks about it, Snape can't stand Remus even more than Sirius.

Always so kind, always so firm.

He's a pathetic fool, that's all, Mr. Prefect good-to-nothing.

_Just step aside, you intruder._

Well, now, that's really the bottom of his bottomless pit: he's staking his claims on Black's rage.

Severus knows this is crazy…but also carved clearly in his mind.

Lupin should stop poking in between them…

He should leave the _Animidiot_ in his hands, he should let the two of them argue and destroy themselves.

Happily ever after, and that's all.

Because Snape really wants to collide with that troll-brained big twit.

It's like he needs it.

It's like he has to smash his shattered self against something – _someone_ – strong enough to respond his exhaustion.

And he's sure somewhere in the depths of his foolish insides there is a precise reason for all this mess…it's just that he is getting tired of explanations.

Dumbledore's explanations, Snape's explanations, the Order's explanations…

ENOUGH, already.

Enough, really, this is too much.

And now, approaching the house doorknob, his silly temperature keeps rising and he's going numb.

He's feeling once more alone, the last time someone took care of him lost in his dark past.

So he enters Black's kitchen and he hopes he can get his shabby couch for two hours or so.

Just to relax a bit, just to indulge in some unknown pleasuring stillness.

Clinging to his powdered dreams, yearning something impossible, learning how to forget his body, his mind, his soul, his self, over and over…just to be Severus every day, the same old _Snapish_ Snape.

The fire is heating him and so is the scruffy blanket someone left on _his couch,_ but he's shaking and his fever now is high, he can tell by the fact that his eyelids weights too much, his eyesight is getting blurry and his body seems lost somewhere in his entangled, senseless void of thoughts.

Suddenly a loud clatter shakes him a little.

_CACHANK, cachank, STUD, ttt, STIN, THUDthudthudthud…_

But he can't keep up with all this noises and he closes his eyes, even if the _thuds_ are now very near.

A strong _firewhiskey smell_ explodes unpleasantly under his nostrils and a very distorted, rough voice tries to reach his hearing.

The voice is angry, no mistaking.

But Severus can't understand anything.

And suddenly two…big…_things_…grab his strict collar and lift him up…

Oh, dear Merlin, Morgana, Paracelsus and everybody else, WHAT THE HECK, NOW?

The rough voice attacks him mercilessly.

He's about to throw up and his breath is deep, exhausted.

The forehead is burning wild, now, but he can tell undoubtedly that someone has just lifted him.

Wait…how can somebody actually lift him? He fills the heaviest thing on the planet in this precise moment…

The firewhiskey powerful whiff hangs around him for a moment then-

SMACK.

The unexpected pain in his stomach is strong.

It rips his brain, it cracks his limbs.

He tries to collect his last strengths but his wand seems million miles far away and he can't bring himself into casting some non-verbal form of protection.

His _Legilimens_ attitude, however, flows palely and reach something…

_Bloody-thirsted will, angerANGERanger, FRUSTRATION, vivid images of violence – _out of control, this crazy man is out of control – _Dementors lingering, a boy left alone, Dementors torturing, a young men left alone, Dementors kissing, a man left alone…_

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK…

Pain explodes everywhere and Severus understands someone is now fiercely beating him up.

Ruthlessly.

Severus laments and quivers, he perceives his body thrown on the cold floor.

He groans, indescribable aching all over and intolerable high fever nullifying his will.

Then he tries to curl up, to shield himself, somehow…

KICK, the loud voice screams something terrible and starts over again:

Kick-kick-kick-kick…

His blood platters everywhere, his mouth tastes like iron.

He knows somehow who his mugger is.

The man he's now seating astride over him.

Yes, he reeks terribly of alcohol, but Severus – OUCHahAHIouch – instantly recognizes Black's presence, the real warm of his skin.

The real feeble scent of his long, beautiful hair.

Black starts punching him hardly on the face, his voice dried up and busied with unnamable bad words.

How foolish…one or two of his teeth jumps away from his mouth.

Blood is suffocating him…

Severus knows this man he's going to kill him soon.

He will, for sure.

So he starts crying.

He has a lot of things to do, his mission, his will…Harry…

- _Please_…-

Black seems untouched by his display of weakness and keeps smashing him like a punching bag.

- _Please…-_

He knows his words are mixing with blood, he can hear his own gushing sounds…

- _Please_…_Sirius_…-

A few punches later the man hesitate.

- _Sir-Si-Sirius…-_ whispers Severus again, coughing frailly, spurting blood everywhere.

Severus eventually opens his eyes a bit.

Above him Sirius Black is out of himself, a mask of vermillion fury.

Eyes flowing with ire, – a crazy spot in them - his beautiful features shaken and distorted, his cheeks purple and his lips thin, with teeth showing intimidatingly.

Severus is now really panicking.

He can't feel his body anymore.

Then he faints.

:::::::::

YUKI: I'm sorry, I know I'm slowing down with the story but I'm busy and I cannot find the right time to write. I hope you're enjoying this little exercise of mine. I'm working know on a new idea and I should be finishing OP fic soon, but now I'm all busy with Sirius and Sev and I won't leave them until the very end. I like the chapters titles…and I won't add any other comment because I don't like commenting that much. Be sure to write me if you find some grammar perplexing thing, ok? Kisskiss- yuki


	4. Chapter 4

**04 – Balm **

Snape indolently woke up in a large, soft bed.

Everything around him was blurry, dark and taciturn.

He indulged in his state of wakefulness.

No one was around and he felt confident about reducing for a moment or two his attention to the world.

As a matter of fact, he had a priority: trying to put himself together, trying to regain an overall view above himself and his situation.

That bed, though, was not helping.

It felt like melting in a cloud, it felt like he hadn't really slept for ages.

His bones were stuck, unable to move, his eyelids glued, his face was a motionless mask of whisked meat and his body all over was aching like mad.

He took a deep breath or two and…inhaled a very _familiar_ smell.

It took him three seconds to realize that was Black's odor and when he did it, it felt suffocating, clinging all over him, as intrusive as its master always was.

That crazy…troll-witted…_MPF_!

He shrugged, remembering clearly his fury against him and…

Wait, why was he still alive?

Hadn't Black been successful?

Evidently not.

_Crap_…he couldn't even remember last time he felt that devastated…

Coughing a little, he tried to open – _ouch – _his eyes and moved under the thick layers of blankets.

Outside his comfy space, the world looked unfamiliar and appalling.

The room was large, the dimmed light came from the sole high curtains-screened window.

Severus caught the blurred contours of a wardrobe, a writing desk, a trunk-like thing and a bedside table, just near him.

He tried again to recollect his strengths and the first thought he came up with was:

_MY WAND…!_

…He spotted effortlessly his wand carefully placed on the bedside table and relaxed a bit.

Good…So..._mpf, _OUCH…

He moved slowly and another deep waft of Black's scent covered him…

He pursed his lips together in a tiny line.

Now…what a nightmarish loss of dignity; he was experiencing something…really dreadful…

His body was a painful mess of marks and bruises but, he noticed, his teeth were back to their normal place.

At least that…_animal_…had thought of him a little….

But then, horrifying, he realized he was being all wrapped up in HIS tattered, larger, messier clothes, his cloak and his robes nowhere to be seen in that darkness.

He felt a burning desire to flee away…

What was the time, anyway? What day was it?

He felt miserable and wrecked.

His body was all covered in bandages and he couldn't help but recall the terrible visions of Black torturing him…on the floor…like a harmless mannequin…

He quivered, partly also because of his remaining fever.

Suddenly, outside the door, an outburst of laughter broke his peaceful state of mind.

He heard noises and voices.

Then laughs and stifled sounds, too.

He gave hear to them and recognized at once Lupin's calm tones, followed by that Nymphadora's girly chuckles and –YES – HIS more guttural sniggers.

It was like an icy shower bringing him back to real world.

Then Snape discovered himself in a deep emotive distress about what happened and what was going to come next…

He didn't want anybody to see him in that unseemly state and in particular he didn't want THEM to.

So, he weakly sank in his comfortable position and wished to disappear…

Luckily, the voices seemed to calm down and then they faded away.

- 'm coming guys…just a moment.-

And then, with Severus great agony, Sirius entered.

Wait…why was he exactly _fearing _him?

Sirius closed the door behind him and got himself near the bed.

He lightly rested his hand over the blanket and Snape had a fear shiver again.

_If only the wand hadn't look so far, so hard to grab…if only his mind hadn't been so fragile...so open, so incapable of casting all around his usual defenses…_

Snape mechanically closed his eyes but the hand soon was gone and Black's muffled footsteps could be heard approaching the wardrobe.

- _Lumos. _- mumbled the man, his wand intruding in one of the wardrobe's drawer.

Sirius bustled about with his free hand for some minutes, then whispered again, clearly speaking to himself:

- Mh, here they are…'ope they're enough…-

Black went back to the bad and seated on it, spreading all over a series of objects and containers.

Snape's concentration was rocketing back and forth, like waves, and he couldn't sense anything useful.

He couldn't shield or prepare himself in any way.

Black was ready to do something to him, again, and he felt hatefully vulnerable.

He was a coward, after all, wasn't him?

How humiliating…he was feeling like the lowest...scum…of a wizard…

He had been disgraced and mortified only with the shameful use of the hands.

Like he hadn't been enough for a wand duel.

Just rough, brutal hands on the pathetic Snape – yes, Snape, ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot, your Half-Blood Weakling…

Sirius voice came, interrupting his confused brainy streams, and it sounded calmer and softer than Severus had thought:

- Are you awake?-

He rested his hand – unbearably kind, for all the dragons of this world – on Snape's forehead, then dangerously leant on him a bit.

- Uh…for Merlin's bottomless cauldron…you're as _horrible _as fuck…-

- _Watch your mouth…-_

Snape answered back - his throat scratching - without even noticing.

This was their endless curse, after all: they simply weren't able to ignore each other, they had to snap back, they always had to fight for the last word.

Sirius moved back a little, a bit surprised.

Severus blinked his eyes repeatedly, trying to get a grip of himself.

Suddenly, his awareness clarifying, he felt some curious waves of Black's own emotions.

He wasn't _Legilimens-_ing him, obviously - he wouldn't have had even the slightest strength to hold his wand – but he was a powerful wizard, after all, and despite his present conditions, he could tell Black was confused.

At least as much as he himself was.

And clearly he had no harmful intention.

That was pretty much a surprise – or maybe it was not.

Severus lifted his back a little on the pillows and found himself looking directly in Black's eyes.

They were intense, big but fine shaped, and strikingly glistening - by the way, he didn't even try to stop _those_ thoughts popping up in his drained mind.

Awkwardly, Snape also thought they had never cast themselves so gracefully on him.

_You're too weak, now ENOUGH with this gibberish…_

Back to Black's presence, the hopeless git was now feeling heavily guilty…well, actually, he was literally filling the air with his gloomy remorse.

Again, how irritably invading…

Still wondering about _THE IDIOT_ real eyes' shade – if it was irony grey or more sky-ish grey - he saw something new.

Peculiar, in a way.

Sirius _smiled_ a bit, in the dark.

Snape detached at once his cold and probing look, for this was a bit too much.

Sirius did the same, finding the other pillow suddenly very interesting.

- You're up. Finally.-

- Stay away from me, you rudd…- began Severus, shaking away that weird sensation it had sneaked between them in a murky, odd moment.

- Hey hey hey…hold on your hippogriffs, will you?-

Sirius lifted his deep voice again and Snape stared at him, while trying to perk up.

- Well… – started Black, clearly avoiding again the other's eyes.

- What?- asked harshly Severus.

Talking was painful and his mouth tasted horrible.

Black seemed unable to find right words and held his breath, bewildered.

Severus became paler and spoke again:

- You…nearly killed me.-

- I was not going to.-

- You were not, were you, uh?-

His voice became inquiring and upset together.

- I'M SORRY, OK?- said suddenly Sirius lifting his hands in a yielding-sort-of way.

He looked ridiculously earnest.

…_shamefully handsome_…

Maybe a bit concerned too.

He forced his tones to quickly gain in tartness.

- Ah, you're sorry, I'm glad…And how on Earth do you think your exc-

- I KNOW! I know, ok?! I was…-

- You know? Oh, yes, how touching, you used my face as a butcher but…"y-o-u k-n-o-w". Thank Merlin, now I can die HAPPILY.-

Snape's anger was starting to grow but he kept it somehow under control, startled by the fact that Black didn't seem to wish another argument.

- I-I'm not really proud of what I did.-

- Oh, please, not the "sulking time" now...-

- Listen…- tried again Sirius, his face turning a little paler.

- Don't bother yourself, please, GO ON, after all you're not proud of what you did, are you? Just another one of your tantrums, it really doesn't matter, -

- Listen, please…-

- so now everyone can just forgive you, poor thing, you are sorry, after all, UH?-

- Please SEVERUS!-

And this literally froze Snape.

He stared at Black like he was the biggest mountain of troll's boggers.

- You…YOU…MY NAME…Don't you ever venture to say it again!- said Severus, pure poison dropping from his words.

- Yeas, whatever…– and really now Sirius' cheeks turned irritably pink –…Nobody knows you're here so I just want YOU to listen. Please.-

Snape made his lower his look again, pitiless, but he also didn't speak so Sirius seized the moment:

- Look. I…I was out of myself. I didn't even remember clearly what I did to you!-

- Oh, I have some pretty lively reminiscences, I assure you, one of these days I can show you, if you want.-

- I was d-drunk – continued Sirius, trying not to pay attention to Snape's sarcasm - and I…I…lost control. Th-that's it, I said. And I'm not proud of myself. Really.-

- So, crying on your spilled potion, indeed very touching.-

Sirius expression tensed in uneasiness.

Severus pursed his lips again and added:

- Now YOU listen to me, you worthless drunkard, I don't care what you're mourning about and how miserable you think you are…-

- CUT IT…You don't know…you can't understand…-

- Oh, how could I understand? I surely don't go around beating people just because I'm too stoned to remember why I was drinking in the first place!-

With that Severus knew he was now feeling hurt.

And he absolutely loved the taste of his subtle but ruthless vengeance.

Words were no match with mere actions, he had always sported this.

Plus, he had used his first name in a confidential way, pronouncing it lightly, like he was just throwing away another of his bad jokes.

_How dared him?_

_HOW?_

Sirius looked troubled, his big hand scratching thoughtfully his unkempt goatee.

- I…I'm…I was…What a mess…- concluded in a whisper, sounding regretful.

Severus frowned and turned away his gaze…THE IDIOT had now a very peculiar sorry look that made him look fine-looking even when remorseful…

_GRRRRR…_

- How long was I unconscious by the way?- he asked, trying to sound less unfriendly, trying to ignore his envy.

- Two days…-

- TWO WHAT?-

- Don't worry, I owl-ed Dumbledore about your _conditions_.-

- MPF. Yes, as if it wasn't enough.-

Sirius now seemed a bit bothered.

- I wrote to Dumbledore to assure him that you're right and, I assure you, nobody knows you're here.-

Severus seemed quite satisfied with this information and tried to figure out the big picture.

- I have to go - he suddenly said, as finishing some sentences still stuck in his brain.

- You're going nowhere. Dumbledore asked me to keep you from rushing things.-

- I don't rush…things.-

- I don't know, I can' tell and partly I don't care – boldly replied at once Sirius - But he said you'd be fussing and asking to go back as soon as possible. And up until now he's being right.-

Severus clicked his tongue, as irritated as hell.

- I…why…-

- I promised Dumbledore. I gave my word.- Sirius sounded irremovable – However, you're still unable to move, your face looks horrible and you have bandages everywhere.- Said Sirius, regaining his usual temper.

- It' only your fault!-

Sirius avoided the sideswiped tone and began preparing some fresh bandages.

- Anyway, let me be. I have to tend your wounds…-

- You're absolutely forbidden to tend anybody's anything…!-

Severus was now shocked deep inside.

This is wasn't going anywhere good…

- You fool. Who do you think aided you two days ago? – asked Sirius, a bit offended - You can't possibly think I'd let that hideous elf touch you, can you?-

This time Severus didn't struggle to hide his dismayed look.

The other didn't wait for any of his more or less concealed concerns, took the blankets aside and mildly said:

- Undress.-

- DIE.-

Severus curled up a little, in a defensive-sort of way.

- Oh, come on, don't tell me…!- Sirius was now openly laughing

Severus shot him a nasty look.

- SHUT UP!-

- You've got to be kidding me…a full-grown wizard-...YOU!… - Come on, undress already, I don't have all the day and you totally need a hand…-

- I swear you'll pay for all this…- muttered Snape between his teeth.

He lifted his bust and groaned for the pain: his body felt as heavy as lead.

Forgetting instantly about the shame and the wrath, he carefully tried to remove his sweater.

Meanwhile, Sirius had got nearer and had started helping with the operation: Snape's arms just didn't want to cooperate, plus Snape showed his bruises were really troubling him.

The cloth slipped away and so did the vest…Sirius stopped at midair.

The man's chest was yellow-crowned, scratches everywhere – on his arms too – while hints of large violet-red marks stood out, even if he was all wrapped up in magimedical gauzes.

- QUICK!- barked Severus, coughing again.

Sirius obeyed and hastily began unfolding bandages.

Then he grabbed some of the little bottles and started mixing ingredients and stuff in different order.

- I hope you know what you're doing…- commented Snape, sour.

Sirius did not pay him attention and started his tough work.

The cerulean magic ointment was icy and though being liquid it began grow together the moment it touched Snape's bare skin.

Severus tensed, his body suddenly contracted.

That kinky bastard was now freely touching him and, needless to say, Snape couldn't bare the contact.

It was too intimate, too near…too _amazingly_ near.  
Fast but delicate, Sirius' long fingertips were now lightly tracing swift but careful stripes – _AND_ Severus face was reddening with no mercy.

This was becoming outrageous…and it was actually painful, even though Black was being truly gentle.

Severus saw he may have internal bleedings: his aches were too deep to be only on the surface and Black was using a particularly effective moist mixture, very well-conceived to be honest.

At a sudden Black's movement, Severus grumbled and unintentionally grasped Sirius' hand really hard, trying to suppress his evident suffering.

- Stay calm, you brainy bat, stay calm, no one is going to harm you…No one.- kindly mumbled Sirius, too concentrated to be really amused.

They almost didn't talk and Sirius worked quickly.

He replaced the old bandages with fresh ones than he made Severus drink a generous gulp of _Tempotion _(highly recommended if your temperature is burning your body)and a sip of Madam Pomfrey's special _Uplifting_ _Restorative_, that Dumbledore had sent Sirius especially to cure internal wounds.

- I'm going now. The Order is having lunch downstairs.- said Sirius, his task completed and all the items back in the drawer, all neat and clean.

Severus looked twisted and fatigued.

- As I said, nobody knows you're here, so try to rest. When I'm done, I'll come and feed you.- stated Sirius, a little cheerful a little mocking.

Snape shrugged, assuming a solemnly detached air.

Was that a crazy form of kindness?

- I'm not a pet...-

Sirius laughed openly, he closed his eyes, end left the room, leaving Snape again speechless.

He thought he heard a clear silly version of a Christmas Carol containing words like "Bat-pet" "I have" "ill on the bed"…

Snape sank into his pillows, feeling exhausted.

He felt too beaten even to try and change his position – for he was always sleeping in a tight side-curl.

:::::::::::

YUKI: Hope you're enjoying, as usual. Thanks to the suppor :)

I really like their situation.

I said to myself I was going to write a _drabble_ this time.

a _DRABBLE_.

MuHAHAHAHAHAH...

I should stop lying to myself.

I like seas of words and nothing can change this silly habit of mine.

I obviously double-checked words and grammar but my eyes are tired and I'm done for today so...BYE BYE

- yuki.


	5. Chapter 5

**05 – Blaze**

Sirius closes the door behind his back and stops on the handrail of the old staircase, his eyes blank.

_AH! HOW FUNNY!_

_How…how come…?_

He can hear Remus calling him downstairs but his friend's voice comes from miles away, far and low.

He breathes heavily, trying to catch a regular rhythm again.

_Pale injured skin, bruised all over._

_That hideous, filthy caricature of a man_.

Sirius inhales again.

_Yes, filthy, wrecked, creepy…_

_And yet…_

He grasps the handrail_._

No need to deceive himself.

No reason to tell himself otherwise.

The unspeakable state of things…

- SIRIUS!Time to eat!Molly's upsetting! COME DOWN!-

He literally jumps from the stairs and rushes down, trying to erase his tingly sensation with action and speed.

Entering the kitchen, the other Order members welcomes him and he smiles them distractedly.

Something is crawling inside his stomach, lurching…

He realizes he's hungry as hell, his mouth plainly watering.

Near the fireplace, a bit interdicted, stands Remus…

- What? – spits Sirius, naturally approaching him.

- You are…Your face…Are you sure you're feeling well?- he says, sipping his Wild berries Beer (dark, rich and fruity - strange scents…not Sirius taste, even closely).

- Excuse me? -

_Pale, white and bruised skin…again…BRUISED…violated…_

_Different clothes for a different person – no, same old person, the one he used to know and brutally taunt. _

- Sirius…you're all flushed…'Re you sure is all right?-

Remus seems concerned.

_Bruised…white…_

_So guilty, so cruel he had been…_

- I…Yes…I…-

Another violent flare run under his cool skin.

He looks startled at his own hands.

Are they boiling or something?

- Guys, come on…- Tonks smiles and hints them to the table and they follows her.

She smiles in a different way, though, when looking at Remus.

Sirius is not that stupid.

He knows, he can tell, and maybe he also bets his cousin has some pretty fat chances.

Remus is a bit too precise and he can be fussing over things but he's a good catch…if one doesn't care about him being a secluded werewolf, off course.

But who will be caring, anyway?

They start sharing roasted meat and pumpkin treats, Molly sure has done her best again.

Cutleries and plates dings and moves, jaws chew and voices loudly share.

Their mouth full, they still can manage to talk a lot about everything going on.

But Sirius – while sharing some pumpkin juice with Molly - sulkily remembers himself he is actually being cut off from the world (Merlin only knows how much he misses fresh breeze on his face, an endless barley field and the shining moon above).

No action, no spying, no job.

No mysteries, no discovers, no travelling.

No wife, no children, no existence at all.

How can the people he's having lunch with understand?

They cannot.

They can go out from that old door, they can easily pass through the entrance.

A Dark War incoming, the second of his damned life, and Sirius can't avoid this sense of striking solitude hanging over him.

Withdrawn, inhibited, kept quiet.

Not is cup of tea, really.

Remus hands him some smashed peas and potatoes.

They eat and they chat, the laughs and they go through serious matters.

Sometimes it's just like being together at Hogwarts again.

- Ehi, Molly, mind if you keep me a portion for this evening as well?-

_Bizarre._

_For the meal will be for him._

_Him, waiting upstairs._

_SHUSH!_

- Sirius, dear, you sure you don't want me to stay? I can ask Arthur…You turned a bit bony, lately.-

_Yes, call it "bony", I call it "endless drunk-shit and lack of proper food"._

Molly always acts this kind and worried.

Sirius knows she doesn't – let's say – totally approve him (he wouldn't approve himself too, however) but he still admires her for being a lovable and flawless house-mother.

He smiles sincerely to her apprehensive look.

- Don't worry, Molly, just didn't want to waste the left-overs of your delicious meal.-

- Yes, yes but…have you been eating properly, dear? Really, we don't want you to become all skin and bones…-

- Molly, please, Sirius is not a boy anymore. Sirius – _ehm_ – I'm sorry, she thinks she has to feed everything has not still turned into a ball…-

Sirius jolts with laughs and beams to Arthur, his wife already grumbling in discord.

- Arthur!-

- Don't bother yourself, Molly, really. I'm all right. But I can't deny it: your tidbits are way better than the crappy things I usually do for myself only…-

She gives him her _you-naughty-but-lovable-boy_ smile and nods.

- I'll leave you something, dear, don't worry.-

Tonks grins to Sirius and Remus cackles a little:

- You're totally spoiling him, Molly…-

And when everyone is full and delighted, Molly serves dessert and coffee and they enjoy a bit of a chimney-talk.

Sirius likes Shackelbolt stories the best, short and funny, and he could listen for hours to Mad-eye war or work accounts, especially when they involves a younger Dumbledore or a very clumsy Tonks.

- So, this little nasty brat here – never, never trust anyone I say, Constant Vigilance! – made me believe she was a boy with curled long hair…-

And everybody burst into a chorus of laughter.

- Wait, wait…Moody – uahahaha – what colour?- asks Arthur.

- Oh…ahahah… I remember! I went Electric green with pinkish spots.- laughs Tonks

And again everybody all together laughing.

- It was so flashy it hurt my brain!- grunts Mad-eye.

Sirius giggles with the others and gulps down his hot coffee.

You see, this is not a thing you see every day.

A bunch of colorful and energetic people, all here, all together, all trying to save each other's life.

All together trying not to forget.

Trying to sew it up, all the rips one can get through everyday experiences.

Sirius drinks his coffee and tries to enjoy at least this everyday wonder.

Different, deep bonds forming right now, in front of his eyes.

New sort of a family.

There's Harry, don't even mention it, the boy he's his absolute priority, his first concern his last opportunity to change his unfaithful destiny.

He could be willing to die in his place, he could anything for the boy's sake.

It's because of Lily and James, of course, but it's because of the affection, too.

Sirius couldn't tell back then, he was young and mindless, but the first time the little baby Harry hugged him it was pure bliss, joy, it was James crying with happiness and the three (four) of them hugging like mad on a St. Mungo's bed, as white as snow.

(_events now blurred, stuck at the start of a dark tunnel he was forced to cross for more than ten years…)_

There's Remus, then, his safety anchor, his wizard bloody brother, a person who doesn't forget and easily forgive. A person who can still love life nonetheless life played vile tricks on him.

There are the Weasleys too…they may not agree with him about a great number of problems, indeed, but Sirius is sure Molly has already cooked for him more than his own Mother ever did.

Arthur, on the other hand, has tried so many countless times to deal with his unequalled stubbornness…more than his own damned father ever tried or did!

There are the Order Members and Dumbledore, playing the Master of puppets in the name of Love…he can really be SOMETHING sometimes but Sirius trusts him like he never did with anyone else, neither with James maybe.

Stories, people, eyes, meetings, plans…

It can be hard sticking in with all these complications but life isn't often sweet.

Not at all.

It can get really shitty, to be honest.

Someone has given up, someone's is not here anymore, someone is just passing by, someone is going to die in a horrible way…

And yet Sirius can tell his kitchen is somehow filled with love.

He can tell all these people are his beloved and clumsy surrogate of a family (except Dung…No, really, Mundungus is the lowest scum of a thief…he can be funny though).

Not the best case scenario, maybe, but still a better solution than Azkaban charming guards.

His lovable hooded old friends, still feeding his darkest nightmares.

Well…

_What about the man upstairs?_

Sirius stared at the brownish liquid in his mug.

_Is the man upstairs even real?_

_Yes, as real as his own hands._

_He remembers being pissed off._

_Bloody furious, to say it properly._

_And frustrated too. _

_Unsatisfied, demanding, reckless, irritable…_

_He remembers emptying countless goblets of that dry Firewhiskey his family kept shut in the alcohol cabinet._

_He remembers hitting him ungracefully hard in the face._

_He remembers the horrible sound of his teeth jumping away in soft "pops"._

_He remembers being in a puddle of blood._

_He remembers the man pleading him_

_He remembers stopping and panicking._

_He remembers owling Dumbledore, as desperate as hell. _

_And two long days spent at the man's side._

_The man always moans and has terrible bad dreams._

_But is the man even real?_

- Ohi, Sirius…You don't look well, really. Molly is right…you are oddly emaciated…-

_Ah, good, dear old Remus, always so smart…!_

- Wh.. no, Remus, I'm all right, really.- and then: - Thanks.- he adds, trying not to be rude.

Remus shrugs and seems to accept his statement.

But Black is lying and also being utterly deceitful.

_Shame on you, heir of the Black's heritage…_

Shame on him, yes, a deep, nasty shame on his beautifully dark-waved head.

Shame because he's standing near the fireplace, the coffee-mug in his hand, but his mind is far away, awfully occupied by some disturbing images.

And gross too.

Because

_That pale, milky skin, all bruised, all burning in fever…_

he's being so distressed, so worried about his little-big fire whiskey problem and its violent, affected records.

And because he can't really turn down the raging hard-on he gets every time THE REVOLTING SODDING BAT – _the man upstairs _ - has had his skin out in the past hours.

White.

Pale.

So delicate it burns.

So fragile it hurts.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Sirius entered his room late that afternoon, a tray between his hands, the house completely emptied, except for Kreacher, who was probably kissing Sirius mother's portrait somewhere in his filthy nest – yeah, whatever, Sirius wasn't really caring.

He closed the door behind him, placed the food tray on the writing desk and mechanically took a look around.

The air was a bit foul and the room was messy.

Snape was there, undoubtedly (Sirius had hoped somehow he had imagined everything), sleeping in his bed again like a dead man.

Merlin, hadn't he been sleeping at all lately?

Maybe he really hadn't, had him?

He opened the window shutters and let some fresh air into the room.

He started tidying up all around, trying to ignore Snape's faint breathing on the bed.

Sirius piled up books and letters, some of them very old…and too hurtful to be read again.

Then he folded the amassed, messy ball of his clothes, spread all over the floor.

Thinking about it, he had ordered Kreacher to do the laundry separately for Snape's things…and this now seemed a bit awkward but he didn't want anybody to spot the man, especially in his bed.

At first, he really didn't think about it but now, given the present situation, it was too difficult trying to explain why the ugly Potion Master was huddling up in his own bed, some fever lines and a heavy cold.

Not to mention his suspicious wounds.

Severus coughed, again and again, than rolled in his sleep, grabbing the pillow like mad.

This was a really shocking oddity.

Though he was very well aware of the human body needs, Sirius never thought Snape could sleep.

He was just, you know, the oily full-grown bat he always had seen!

Tightly dressed, pressed thins lips, acerbic and all the rest, right?

The image was grotesque but still very funny: Snivellus never let his sense of humor down.

Sirius muffled a laugh and seated on the side of his bed.

He reached out his hand and touched Snape's forehead.

His temperature was getting normal.

Snape opened his eyes almost instantly.

- What do you want?- he snapped weakly, like a very dignified animal, suddenly subdued against his will.

Now , cornered and dependent, he still showed boldness, decided not to let anyone helping him.

- You're welcome.- said Sirius warmly.

And Sirius found his face again opening with a cozy, confident smile, while the other, his eyes two tiny suffering slits, showed his grudge.

Sirius rapidly took an eye-check on Severus bandages.

- You're healing. It seems I dosed well that ointment…-

Severus chuntered sarcastically:

- How lucky – hissed, coughing again – being the experiment of your first medi-magi internship.-

Sirius didn't reply and covered Snape again with the blankets.

The milky fragility of the man was affecting HIM and, as usual, the manly parts of his inconsiderate limbs.

He tried to calm down and collected the trail from the writing desk.

- If you ever tell someone…-

Said meanwhile Snape, a feeble voice but a biting tone.

- Oh, yes, how could I forget? Now that you mention it, I could tell Remus.-

Snape seemed struck with terror.

Sirius posed the trail on the bedside table and started, with a derisive voice:

- Yes, it sounds very good: "Ehi, hi, Remus…listen: you know our Little Snivey? He is inside my bed now, but he is a bloody mess because he was ill and I was drunk as hell and I had this brilliant idea…why not beating the crap out of him?"-

- DON'T CALL ME…-

- Yeah, accurate as usual, aren't we?…Whatever…How are you feeling?-

- None of…-

- Oh, on the contrary, it's totally my business.- he declared, a bit too intensely.

The stared each other, black icy eyes against grey rebellious one.

And then, strangely, Sirius saw something too peculiar to be true.

Snape looked a bit…frightened.

He didn't know _how_ to deal with…_what_ was that…

The dark eyes felt for the first time alive, vivid and shining, perhaps because of the temperature…

No, the fever was almost gone, yet there was something glistening in them, something really tiny you had to find with an _Engorgio_ Charm, possibly, but still visible.

Snape sink in the big bed and looked away.

Black did the same, cleared his throat and pointed out the trail.

- I took you some food.-

- I'm not hungry.-

- Oh, for Merlin's pointed hat , don't be ridiculous...-

Sirius fiddled with plate, fork and glass then said:

- This is Molly's. It's delicious and you totally need to eat something.-

- No, I don't. You're not my house-elf and I'm not some kind of last-hour homeless.-

Sirius stared at him, disconcerted by the man obstinacy.

Weak, starving, wounded and still so unbelievably pig-headed.

Snape tried to emerge from the blankets and Sirius saw him staring annoyingly at his sweater and lousy gym slacks.

- Where are my clothes, anyway?- he asked, looking really uncomfortable.

- Laundry day yesterday.- replied Sirius, tonelessly.

- Mpf.-

- Oh, no need to thank me again, you're welcome.-

Sirius lifted from the bed and closed the window, again somehow displeased by the man impossible bitterness.

If Snivey wanted to be alone and by himself, who was he to prevent him from doing it?

He only had to amend for his unconceivable drunkard behaviour, not for thirty-something years of shit crossing the other's life.

Well, maybe, that little accident with the Whomping Willow and at the Shrieking Shriek…yes, Sirius wasn't very proud of it either but…young and madcap, right?

- Well – he stated, reaching the door – you want me to go and I'll leave. You can eat by yourself for sure…-

Again, that bloody weirdo arranged his eyes in a truly unsettling contrite glance.

Than he settled himself near the trail and started picking up some cereal breads crumbles.

Sirius stopped for a second while closing the door, looking at him.

For some unnamable reason, he felt poorly about leaving the guy there, by himself.

He knew what was like being alone all the time, the only company a fucked up brain, the only pal a Firewhiskey bottle.

But he was unwanted and though this hurt him much more than he was willing to admit - Sirius Black has never been unwanted (except by his family, obviously) – he didn't see any reason to break the other's will.

- However, you can…stay.- he said delicately, glancing again at the ashen man on his bad.

- Only until I get better.- stated that one, munching a little piece of bread and looking at him like an alien.

- Until you get better, yes.-

- And nobody has to know.-

- Nobody will.-

- Your word.-

- You have it already.-

- It's a deal.-

- Agreed.-

Sirius left the room and went to collect the fresh laundry, again feeling something rather foggy and not too unfamiliar, the uncomfortable prickling lying again undetected under his skin.

:::::::::::::::::::::

The room was dark and cold.

Sirius entered silently.

Snape was asleep and his breathing sounded a lot healthier.

After he had brought the trail to the kitchen – the food almost untouched, _how silly that idiot_ - he came back on the bedroom and shut the door.

Well, he had not really told Snape he had to sleep there.

He had slept there for the last two days, so it really wasn't a fresh problem but...

But…blimey, this was still his bedroom, wasn't it?

He sighed and then he undressed almost soundlessly.

He wore a worn dark jumper and a pair of old joggers (he suspected them to be James', actually), a big orange patch on the knee.

He enjoyed applying patches, Molly had taught him quite some tips to sew the stitches better.

So, funny but true, Snape was almost right calling him a "housewife"…

So humiliating, so frustrating, the great Sirius Black, the man everybody out there believed to be a mass-murdering crazy lad.

_Tsk. _

He entered hid bed's side very furtively.

He felt almost immediately the other men warm presence – _how curious…_

This had been a new astonishing oddity for him, used to feel chilly shivers if in touch with that usually empty side.

Wasn't that a bit of a shocking update?

He discerned very well the circumstances – no inadequate misunderstandings, he still had some pride – yet...

Yet…so many years had passed since he last shared a bed with someone…always sleeping all alone or sleeping without shelter at all.

He sighed again, unconsciously, and arranged his pillow better.

Needless to say, he couldn't manage to find HIS position for he dared not moving too much.

Suddenly a growling voice came out of the dark:

- Your fondness for my health is quite remarkable – hissed Snape – and lovably revolting…but may I ask you what brings you here?-

- You know, late this evening I was just hanging around and I suddenly dropped by...- jeered Sirius.

- Maybe your dumbness prevents you from understanding my question…-

- Woh,woh, fly down Snape, I'm just…-

- Piss off, you damn idiot…-

- THIS IS MY BED.- stated Sirius, starting to boil up.- And I'm not going to sleep anywhere else.-

He heard Snape snarling in the dark again.

- And, while we're on the subject, this is already the third time, so you should stop distressing your hooked nose…-

Snape muttered some atrocious unkindness between his teeth and moved uncomfortably.

- By the way – added Sirius a bit absent-mindedly – What did you think you were doing last evening?-

- Beg your pardon?-

- Don't fuck around, Snape, you know what I'm talking about. You slept for two entire days and you had quite the temperature. You don't know how much I struggled to lower it the right bit…-

And with this Sirius knew at once he officially appeared a bit too concerned.

- You were not overdoing it, weren't you?- he asked, trying to sound as if he had the right to ask

…_which, off course, he absolutely had not._

Snape's icy response crossed right away the fourty_some_ centimeters separating the two of them.

- I know I may sound a bit repetitive, Black, but N-O-N-E O-F Y-O-U-R R-U-D-D-Y B-U-S-I-N-E-S-S.-

- Oh, come one, don't pretend you weren't overdoing.-

- I'm not pretending anything. I'm glad to see how your foolishness can always be a wonder of nature. You amaze me…-

And whilst Sirius wasn't answering back or asking anything more, Snape lowered his voice and malevolently added:

- I only have had some busy shifts.-

- And you came to Grimmauld Place because…?-

- I had some business to attend and this was the nearest place to drop by until the morning.-

It was not the blatant lie that alarmed Sirius, but the underlying truth above it.

Snape did feel exhausted and did want to stop by his house.

He chose Grimmauld Place, dirty and messy, he chose the old couch near a solitary, burnt fireplace…

Now that he thought about it, wasn't Snape always on that couch at the weirdest hours of the day, lately?

- You were in my house.-

- Yes, I was. Good to see that you can still coordinate your brain, your eyes and your mouth. Very interesting.-

- NO, you were in my house, on my couch, and you were so worn-out you didn't even see me coming!-

- AND…good to hear that you remember seeing something, because, as for me, I only saw a total, insane imbecile attacking me like a wild monster.-

- You bloody idiot! I was just worrying about your conditions!- exclaimed Sirius, maybe pushing his luck with Severus' patience – especially given the fact that he was the one who had battered him up.

- Frankly, I don't see why you're meddling. Shifts and covering missions ARE tiring. And, as I said, this is a risk entailed by my tasks.-

- You should not attend them, then. And I'm totally meaning it.-

Snape lips clearly snapped and, in the dull lack of light, Sirius started distinguishing the other man's thin outlines.

- I was only accomplishing my duty. Pity that you were too busy with your Firewhiskey to pay attention to the basilar norms of human courtesy and interaction.-

Sirius suddenly became grave: he knew where the conversation was leading…

- I already said I'm sorry. I didn't want to…-

Sirius saw Snape's shudder, his fragile silhouette by then almost well-visible.

- Don't bother yourself with miserable apologies. You made me lose three plain days of my week, you made me bleed and bear all this maddening situation. What else would you like to say?-

Sirius felt a frustrating wave of guilt and shame.

He pressed his fingers on his closed eyes.

The most unsatisfying thing – and this was the needle tormenting him - was that he couldn't get through Snape thick wall of hatred.

- And now you're all kind and obliging! Just because you feel you've done wrong! You do think you can use me as rag to mope off your unworthiness, don't you? You, despicable excuse of a man!-

Snape was furious.

Weak but full of hatred.

- SHUT UP! I'm not using you!-

Sirius felt miserable but YES, he had to find his way.

He had to explain himself.

- Listen. I lost control…I made a huge mistake. I am a miserable person, as you say, but…I'm not using you.-

- I don't believe you.-

- It's not my problem if you're not used to kindness.-

Snape seemed lost for words, for a second or two.

Strange truths were bubbling up and down, that night, like a mysterious potion simmering in a copper cauldron.

Sirius took a deep breath and his words came out, cautious but earnest.

- Last night…Wh-when I stopped…when you…-

- Yes, when you stopped slaughtering me.- Stated slackly Snape, as if talking about his shopping list.

- That…well, yes, after _THAT_, you fainted. You were burning up with fever.-

- So?- asked Snape, lifting his arm and flexing it under his head.

Sirius knew he had managed somehow to get Snape's attention, maybe due to his own frankness, and decided at once not to waste his occasion:

- So I pulled myself together and I brought you here.-

- MPF. A true hero of the wizarding world, really, you and Potter match very well.-

- Don't be a dickhead now…-

- _Watch your mouth!_-

- Oh, you and your manner obsession – Sirius rolled up his eyes but his tension relaxed a bit - I was just trying to say…You worried me. I freaked out. I thought you were dying, I thought I couldn't help you at all. And I only tried my best…-

Silence.

Snape was speechless.

- So, I'm a brutal asshole, for I was drunk and I hurt you. But for your own sake, try not to let your precious TASKS draining you out so much.-

Snape still didn't say a world.

- 'Cause, you know, I don't particularly like yo-

- _Oh, who could have ever imagined you didn't like me?_- snorted Snape.

- ..And I'm not enjoying this situation, but you should try to take yourself into a better consideration. You're important to the Order and Dumbledore needs you. So, no more nasty surprises. There you are, I said.- said Sirius hastily, his face heating.

Snape didn't respond at all.

Sirius felt his straight words had left something more than a faint mark…

So, his actions guided by a mysterious will (only Merlin knows of which nature), he saw himself in reaching out his hand in the dark, towards Snape.

The hand naturally rested on Snape's arm and Sirius, pleasantly surprised despite his own disbelief, felt a curious sparkle spreading between the two of them, just through the tiny patch of skin they were sharing.

Snape felt familiar, completely at his reach…

_Unbelievable. _

After some everlasting seconds, Snape stiffened and moved, looking uncomfortable.

Sirius tightened his gentle grip on Snape's arm, as sf trying to check his real existence.

- Was I clear?- he said, trying again to make their contact appear like completely normal, whereas it really was not.

- You were. – replied abruptly Snape, the time completely suspended – But…Black, I don't recall giving you the permission to touch me.-

Sirius jolted back his hands, like he had touched pure fire, and this time he felt his whole face burning like mad.

- Now, enough with the speeches.-

- Yeah…- confirmed Sirius, exhausted and all concentrated on his burning hand.

- And tomorrow morning I'll be off. I feel better and I won't abuse of your…_hospitality_…any minute more.-

- Mpf. Try not to sound too good or I'll think you're being grateful.-

Sirius slowly drifted in the blankets, his head all full of dreamy chains of thoughts.

- Preposterous, Black. I would haven't needed all this if you hadn't attacked me, in the very first place.-

- _Touché_. You're ri..iy-YAAAWN…ight- he yawned heavily and felt his eyelids closing.

- Off course I am. You totally lack of logic, as usual.-

- As you say…as…you…ss….ssss….aa…y-

And with this he fell in one of his deepest sleep.

Snape stared at him for some minutes, taken aback by the man's complete smoothness.

After all, that was Sirius Black, the mighty inventor of recklessness.

**::::::::::::::::::::::**

I'm really enjoying this, little by little.

And I decided on biding my time with it; I decided not to rush things and words.

Thanks for your support. I appreciate it.

Again, correct my mistakes if you found them in the text.

STAY TUNED/kiss kiss** Yuki**.


	6. Chapter 6

**06 – Scrap**

Lucius Malfoy was decisively irritated.

His eyes were looking down on Snape in their usual snobbish way, his jaw clenched - standing out in superiority - and…

…_his long donkey tail _snapping on the floor impatiently.

- Severus! How could you spoil my treacle tart?-

Severus glanced back at Lucius-the-donkey and he clapped his hands slowly, _Dumbledore's spectacles_ on his hooked nose.

He was resting on his treasured couch, near the Blacks' old fireplace.

- Very good, Lucius, very good. Molly Weasley will be proud of this mess.- he stated, turning back to a thick bluish blue whose title was _Muggle Desserts and Remedies for Injuries: when your life deserves it_.

Lucius-the-donkey stared at him angered and shouted:

- You! It's your fault! You let the goblins enter into the kitchen and they wasted our dessert!-

But Severus wasn't paying attention – Lucius could be so annoying! – and, some seconds after, Lucius disappeared.

Severus stared for a moment at the ruined treacle tart, now melting, and decided that his beloved book was much more interesting.

While reading aloud (and with a silly catchy tune in his ears) the _Powerful Pitiful Potion for Pathetic Potent People, _a movement caught his eyes.

A figure sprang towards him at his side.

- I don't want it anymore! – the figure lamented, approaching him - I don't want this potion. I don't like your potions at all!-

The Potter-boy came flying like a ghost across the room.

- Why did you let your doe poisoning to death?-

- How could you possibly know about my doe?- asked Severus to Harry.

_Woof woof, _answered the Potter-ghost, who was quickly becoming a giant black dog, eyes no more green.

- _Woof _– barked the dog happily – I know _everything _about your doe.-

The dog had smirking grey eyes and Severus knew at once that…

- Snivey…- stated the dog, less barking and more whispering – Look at me, Snivey…-

Severus did as the dog was saying and, again, he saw the animal transmuting.

- Snivey…- murmured a man – I brought you some food…- and little by little the dog form faded away, letting the human contours come to the front, the eyes remaining astonishingly the same.

Attractive and glowing.

- You should eat, – said a radiant figure that resembled to a very _shining _Sirius Black – otherwise, who's going to tell Longbottom you lost your brain?-

Black literally crawled above him and Severus felt really uncomfortable.

The man was devilishly sparkling in his beauty and Snape couldn't avoid eye-contact anymore.

_So bloody suffocating…!_

He thought he was handsome but terrible.

Alluring.

- What're you looking at?- he asked, smiling.

And Severus all of a sudden felt a burning, unpleasant and irresistible sensation directly from his limbs.

It was unbalancing.

- Move over, idiot, you're weighing on me…- he tried to mutter.  
- Don't tell me you didn't know, Snivey-snivelly...- the man started grinning, his brawny-boney but large shoulders naked and his ruby lips parted again in a fascinating expression.

- What? What do I need to know? - asked Snape, his body tensing.  
Severus tried moving but he only found himself more glued to Black's heating skin.  
The other stretched out his arms (so long, in fact…so strange…) and enclosed him.

Severus felt himself quivering and jolted.

- Don't worry…Stay calm, I'm here. After I'm finished with you, Harry will bring us the special Firewhiskey brew…I should tell Remus too…-

Severus found himself yelling in a peremptory tone.

- No, you absolutely should not!-

- Why not? He' so _delicious…_-

And Sirius kept rubbing and hugging and touching and Severus felt _furious_ – because he didn't want any silly werewolf intruding – and felt burning up from the head to the toes.

- Moony's coming anytime now…- chuckled Sirius his lips now chafing Snape's collarbone.

- I SAID I..I DON'T WANT HIM HERE!- yelled Severus while gasping with pleasure.

He was definitely sweating…

_So hot…_

His vision became blurry and he heard Black laughing in the distance…

_So incredibly hot…_

He woke up panting and craving for some fresh air, his body all sweated and stinging.

He was on his side but he couldn't move at all.

A heavy _something_ weighed on his torso and his legs were entangled.

His brain connected…

…And he almost cried for the shock.

An unpleasant bolt and he remembered his present awkward situation.

Mpf.

His brain told him in a disdained way that he was presently sharing the bed with one of the most truly hated kind of man…

…the one who he could easily envy, indeed.

Again, intruding, presumptuous, hatefully spontaneous.

MPF.

Black was completely over him, nauseatingly hugging him tightly.

The idiotic face was all satisfied and beaming and his body was so attached to Severus that he couldn't breathe anymore.

And some nasty stiffness was even poking irritatingly to his hipbone…!

What a real drag that idiot!

Severus tried to shake himself and move.

He had to go, he ha-WAIT A MOMENT.

Something hard poking on his side?

Something so unmistakable…

YOU FILTHY DOG, LET ME GO!

Horror-struck, Severus winked his eyes and tried to gain some clear consciousness.

The compulsion of shielding himself from that **_TOOMUCHNESS_** was mentally killing him.

He started straggling but Black seemed not intentioned to let him go and his attempt was being slow, weak…

Why wasn't his brain just cooperating that morning?

BECAUSE – oh my – the reason – for Merlin's beard – his...

(This must be hell)

…erection was…

(This is…this must be some kind of sadistic punishment!)

…so hard he couldn't simply think straight!

He strayed himself out of that mess of arms, legs, hotness and intoxicating scent…and hopped on his feet, trying to get a grip of himself.

He was alone – good, no one's eyes to avoid or deceive - full awake and out of the bed, and the jerk seemed really busy with the pillow.

Snorting loudly, too.

What A REAL…!

The surreal intensity of the moment churned his insides; he felt lost, he felt the need to reattach to something reassuring, something caging.

His usual contrite presence bobbed up and filled his conscience.

Safe.

He stared at his body – still all sore and unpleasantly firm - and felt the overwhelming urge to let water shed on him.

Then, again he watched Sirius and shook his head briefly in disbelief, as if by moving it he could distance his collusion with that meaningless scenario.

Again, his lower limbs protested and demanded attention.

Unfortunately, Severus was used no to indulge in their shameless claims.

He moved silently in the dimmed room, took his wand and searched for the door.

Once entered in the shabby bathroom, downstairs, he realized he had no more his clothes and…

…a low-pitched grumble seemed to pass by the door.

- Half-blood traitors, marks of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, and…-

- Kreacher.- stated Severus, only his head out of the bathroom door.

- Oh, Mr. Snape is now well, Kreacher is glad! Master has ordered to keep Mr.'s clothes fresh and tidied and ready to be used!-

Severus looked on the floor and saw a pile of laundry pieces: he took them and, while re-entering into the bathroom, he heard the lunatic elf blabbering while going away:

- And NOW even dirty half-men, against-nature they go! Scum of the lowest scum! If only my poor Mistress could be alive!-

Snape closed the door – his face bothered by the elf's harsh words.

He let the water come out in the sink and looked himself at the mirror below it.

The reflection gave him back the same pale, unsightly vision he always had been.

At least, amongst all the crazy things he had been into, all over the years this never changed: his plain, oily air, his gaunt, long face – almost wax-like – his jet-black eyes, his expression flattened and closed.

Nothing exposed, nothing to show.

The picture of his reassuring stranger self.

He undressed completely and stared at the his emaciated and lank figure his pale, scrawny body, all tendons and skin stretched over tiny squared muscles, his lines so sharp and flimsy.

His usual uneasiness covered him again, like an old, encouraging but hated habit.

Like a required but constraining suite, it was needed yet deep inside unwanted.

It was kind of comfortable, every time it was like finding himself cozy in his ugly appearance.

Unpleasant, sure, but still his.

He started washing quickly his face, the water willingly frozen.

(while everything else just has to flow over him, in spite of him, there was something still lurking on the pool of his forgotten sensation …_And don't quiver_…_you_….)

When the bathtub was ready, he submerged himself in warm water and in the sudden glare of his body his black mark almost shone.

He glared at it and hated it.

Hated the way it burnt every time he was summoned, hated himself for having let that indelible stain dirt his forearm, hated himself for letting his person enslaved by the others.

He grabbed his knees and looked back at the mortal coiling spiralling into his life.

It was unemotional and painless, it was as curious as a tropical bird could be.

It was something to be looked at with detaching, surgical eye.

As everybody else, as outsiders, could be.

(Looking for normality, aren't we? Oh, so adorable…)

As a pair of gleaming, lively grey eyes could be.

(Because that idiot wrapped around you, before, made you forget…YOURSELF…for a moment).

He shivered for a second, his body still somehow roused.

(That yourself, the one from before, the loathing one in the mirror you pierced with your look.)

Never, not once, in his hideous life had he been awaken by the presence of a stranger!

Never.

(Because your cock can still be hard and lively, as if thirteen again, discovering hands, mouth, heating…)

But Severus didn't let his hopes getting too high.

In fact, he had long time ago decided not to have hopes at all.

(Of course, how could a person like…him…like that insane git…how could him even consider…His unpleasant appearance?)

Just because he learnt to had grounds to fear that everything could be mistrustful, deceiving, untruthful.

Wasn't he himself the best example of what a spy should be?

Wasn't he himself being the most deceitful of all?  
The terrible Death Eater, the double - …triple…- agent, the insensitive prick, the sadistic teacher…

Severus leaned his head a little and suppressed a little hysterical laugh.

Because behind all curtains and glances, behind all truths and lies and tries, trials and errors, tears and cruel intentions, behind all that ominous little big theatre…

BEHIND all this, stood the one last very truth.

The derisive scene of human ants getting through all the troubles and the illusions life just gives them.

So ridiculous.

Because, at the end, they are all just bound to die, indifferently.

So, why bother?

Why believe?

AND, behind all explanations, too, it was a simple, basic fact.

The great, terrible man everybody believed he was, that very dark presence, had just been knocked out by some nights spent outside, by some body weaknesses, by a silly fight with a brutal, drunkard jerk.

And, the last but not the list, behind all his hateful expression it stood another big truth, as well.

The so-called "drunkard jerk" was undoubtedly the most voluptuous thing his eyes had ever cast a glance upon.

A smirk.

See?

Life was not unresponsive, life was not a total random cluster of chances.

Like loved playing with the little ants.

Life loved offering them a wicked mess of mockery circumstances.

Severus knew.

A smirk, again.

Life really happened to be a pretentious and malevolent bitch.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He knew he was waking up, he recognized the way his consciousness seemed so busy to remain attached to the drowsy atmosphere of dreams and sleep.

For waking up would meant another day of that unpleasant life.

He kept his eyes glued: there was this lovely sensation invading him lightly and he didn't want it to disappear too soon.

He rolled on the bed and felt comfortable in clamping a soft whats-the-thing?

_Pillow_.

It was a pillow.

Nice and warm.

It had on this deep familiar – but not that much – smell and it felt so…so sodding good.

He felt some deep familiar – yes, that much – shakes coming from his body.

These, too, felt so, _so_ sodding good.

He rolled again on his back and next thing he remember doing was having this satisfying, hot, slow wank.

He stayed there, flat-lying and enjoying his body pleasure, almost smiling.

Only when his wide-opened eyes took the sight of the sticky mess above his abdomen it occurred to him that he could have waited until going to the bathroom.

If only that scent hadn't been so enthralling…

And, also, it occurred to him that he had just jerked off sniffing Severus Snape's odor.

His insides quivered, revolted, and he froze.

It took him half a day to reconnect his conscience to the present of his being.

And it took him three whole days to accept the…_thing_.

After that, it was merely a matter of hours until he started over again, wanking off like mad, almost furiously.

The more he did it, the more he needed it, the more it felt unsatisfying.

Then, in a silly revelation, it dawned to him he haven't had sex quite in a long time and this, added to the complete failure his life was becoming, stroke him out of his last certainties about his present.

And while the shameful object of his excited attentions seemed to be completely disappeared from the whereabouts of Grimmauld Place, his body became as restless as ever, his fingertips always prickling and his eyes shooting in all directions, incapable of thinking straight.

This insatiable need was plenty justified, he was sure.

There wasn't any problem at all – he convinced himself - it was only the pressure down on him, his careless nature painfully trapped by those unfriendly walls…  
No man was meant to be always alone, after all, wasn't this obvious?

Sexual frustration, it was, wasn't it?

No need to worry.

No need to ask why his body trembled and quavered like hell whenever he pretended his hands where not exactly _his_.

No need to give a real name to that numb and strange waiting-like feeling, overflowing from the inside of his daily boredom.

Only when all the Firewhiskey owned by the Black's family was nearly finishing and Sirius saw himself asking twice in a row Remus to buy him some on his way home – his friend so shocked it hurt – he finally saw something was really rotting him from the insides.

One fine day, the good, well-natured Remus – as alarmed as he had always been about his incautious _Animagus_ friend – looked at him and stated, almost tonelessly:

- We need to talk –

Sirius smiled faintly.

- What about?-

His appearance had distinctively changed in merely two weeks.

His hair always badly unkempt and so it was his beard and his appearance in general.

His eye sockets were now more visible, bluish, and his eyelids were now too heavy – too dangerously similar to the ones his mad-cousin always sported.

Unbelievably, this had, if possible, given him even more the fascinating look of the tainted beauty.

Remus shook his head and spoke clearly:

- There's something twisted going on here and I'm not sure I'll like it.-

Sirius didn't say a word.

He didn't really know where to start with.

- Speak or I refuse to come here one more time.-

And, as Remus seldom seemed so angered and preoccupied together, Sirius managed to find a sufficient answer.

He was definitely having a chronic addiction to alcohol.

It was because of his situation.

- Comprehensible.-

Specified Remus, now more relaxed.

But speaking about obsession, how on earth could Sirius succeed to tell Remus, out of the blue, something…something so dreadful as… the problem is "I LUST SNAPE"?

Yet, in the following days, their promises and their concerns – even Sirius own compulsive and aberrant masturbation - were practically blown away by Arthur Weasley's almost deathly meeting with He-who-must-not-be-named dear and horrid snake.

But then the Christmas cheerfulness temporary filled up all Sirius emptied needs, Harry back again in his house and the others again altogether like the patched up family they always had been.

Sirius forgot November and his last weeks of pure horror.

Only sometimes, in the boiling dark of his sheets, after a brief encounter with his hand, he sincerely wondered where – for Merlin's sodding beard – the _ugly idiot_ was.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The hooked-nosed-over-said-ugly-idiot had showed himself some days after, to Sirius great disgust, only to challenge him again, under Harry's sight.

Sirius had temporary forgotten about his last weeks' hypnotic-like state, and had reacted as he was expected to.

Snape giving his boy Occlumancy lesson?  
Had Dumbledore gone insane?

Sirius sure had to agree to this particular arrangement – he didn't want Harry to suffer again from other night suspicious mind-links.

But he hadn't been given any choice and the look THAT TWIT cast upon him in such a disapproving way – oh, so unnerving, so sickening with that weird smirk - made him feel like he had being framed.

They shouted each other and they stared at each other like they were supposed to.

Hating and wand-ready-to hands.

Had all that been adequate for his histrionic need to feel important?

Yes, totally.

Had all that been enough to his own need to hate something?

Sure.

And what about the new term of solitude approaching, after a fat, happy Christmas?

That night, the very one after the boys' return to Hogwarts, he felt himself back to the old, wicked paragraph again.

He didn't really had choices...even the empty kitchen and the roaring fire were now suggesting him so.

And just when he was bustling about his – a little trembling, to say the truth - hands throughout the Christmas Bottles, in search for something dry and strong to pacify his soul, he heard a deep, scornful voice coming from his back:

- MPF. Trying to keep up with the rearwards, aren't we? –

Until that very moment, Sirius had not imagined anything about their possible meeting (a part from, obviously, oscillating dangerously in the back of his mind from _unforgivably hex him till death _to_ unforgivably bang him like mad_).

Sirius stood up, his nerves instantly fuming, and approached the very familiar dark silhouette hovering near the old couch.

- You. – he growled.

They were in his house and, for Morgana's filthiest potion, the prat was definitely not going to mess with him.

He didn't really care – at least for once - about the jolts of his blind flesh, which have clearly recognized the hated owner of the body in front him.

- GET OUT OF HERE.-

Though seeming a bit taken off by the clear "unwelcome", Snape didn't lose his time and his thin lips bent in a poisonous curl:

- I'm clearly not welcomed. Nonetheless, rectify me if I'm being wrong – which I highly doubt - but this is the Order's permanent headquarters and as an active member – which you are not – I shall use this as a place to rest regardless of what the actual owner think.-

His eyes were two empty bottomless pit and Sirius felt half afraid: was that really the mischievous imp he stained his sexual desires with?

Was he really again pointing out Sirius' uselessness?

No way.

He shook his head and resolved on acting rough.

- PISS OFF, you and all your _twisty _words.-

- Shall I presume, _Mr. Black_, that your discourtesy has something to do with the dangerous lack of Firewhiskey?-

- You can presume whatever-you-bloody-want. Out of here. _NOW_.- he almost growled, determined not to let him win.

- I see. A wolf does not change its habits, after all, and…- his tones became devilishly soft – I bet your sparkling happy friends can't wait to hear about your _abhorrent little custom._ -

Sirius enflamed gut's twisted in indignation and he rapidly went over Snape's face, the two noses – one very hooked and beak-like, the other pleasantly straight and pointy – now joining the war between their two masters' furrowed frowns.

- Are you blackmailing me? INSIDE MY HOUSE?-

- And what if I am?-

- I'll kill you. I swear on your pathetic useless life, Snivey, I SWEAR.-

Snape's expression twitched at the sound of the hated nickname:

- As if I could see you trying.-

- Prove me wrong, you greasy _twat_…-

Snape's wand bolted deeply in Sirius' throat, simultaneously followed by Sirius's one, shoved on Severus' heart.

- Your tongue always faster than your brain…-

- Worthless scum.-

Sirius dropped his wand and swamped Snape, pinning him on the wall, holding him by his collar.

He felt a triumphant scream of satisfaction…together with the urge of hitting him as bad as ever.

He simply detested him.

His eyes were blind in rage and his frontal teeth were now gritting.

- No…more…than…a…_dog…-_ said Severus, his neck convulsing in Black's hands.

- _SHUT-THE-FUCK-UP_!- shouted Sirius, pounding hard the other man with each and every of his word.

He clenched hard on his throat and thought about all the sickening trouble he was having only because the man was a heartless shithead who enjoyed teasing the others.

Oh, he would have liked crushing him on every damned piece of furniture and…then…_yes…_ smashing him so hard, RUINING THAT DISGRACEFUL FACE…

Severus looked livid and started yearning for fresh air.

Sirius did let him go, letting him fall heavily on the floor and delivering on him a heavy kick on the side.

The other man shuddered and whined.

Sirius was slightly panting, the blood pumping heavily in his body.

He felt somewhat…_glorious _ in that rage…he felt

(_aroused_. Crap…He was…_rock hard_…)

he could win the despised man over.

Then Sirius squatted down and clasped again Snape on his neck, staring directly in his eyes.

The other looked awful and yet scared.

- You…you are…-

- Oh, I'm the worst, and you can't even imagine how much!-

- The truth is _I'd hit you good and hard _in your ugly yellow face, any minute, I don't need to be drunk.- he breathed heavily on the other's chin and looked at him in pure disdain.

Then he got up and recollected his own wand.

- Now, GO AWAY.-

Severus Snape composed himself and regained his deathful aura.

His hand already on the doorknob, he turned back and stared at Black.

His eyes rested upon him in a kind-of-disdained way – kind-of-_offended_, to be honest - but mostly they were unreadable, as always.

Sirius stared back, his arms crossed on his chest.

When the man was gone, though, he felt something abysmal churning his insides.

So much that in the flowing days he started caring again about his appearance.

So much that he totally and completely forgot about Firewhiskey and his shaking hands on the bottles.

* * *

**YUKI:**  
Hullo there, here's Yuki.

I'm having fun with Sev and Sirius, really.

Hope to please the readers' tastes, not only mine.

After having finished this, I'll write down my regrets to point out what I don't like of this story.

But for now, I'll keep on this way, changing it now would be a disaster, indeed.

Meanwhile, I received a review saying something like: "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?" and I don't know...uh, let's say, I don't know how to deal with it.

I didn't even mange to understand the meaning...is it a question?Is it an exclamation? Is it a way to communicate bad or good surprise? Is it the thing that I can be pretty obscure when I write?

Meh...Help!

(by the way, "see" you on the next chapter, almost ready. I don't have any beta-reader-friend so I always have to read everything 2000 times. Bet there are still mistakes, though...)


	7. Chapter 7

**07 – Token**

- Please, Severus, don't ignore me.-

- I'm not _ignoring _you, Headmaster.-

- Then I expect you not to avoid my eyes.-

Severus was prepared to answer back, really, words were usually always ready to burst out, but this time they didn't come.

He stared at Dumbledore, his shiny-crystal clear eyes gleaming through the moon spectacles.

- Would you mind telling me, then, what's bothering you so much?-

The great _Occlumant_ thought for a moment not to answer back.

And then, after two infinite seconds _the old voice_ came admonitory from deep inside him.

_Don't. You can trust the old man._

He didn't say a word, then, but he let all his mental defenses slowly fall, like leaves gently scattered away by the wind.

- Minerva told me you aren't attending anymore the Order meetings. –

Severus kept staring Dumbledore, his look unusually decipherable.

Well, there was no point in lying to Dumbledore, really.

- Have you been too busy with, let's say, _other_ meetings?-

- No, Sir, I certainly have not.-

- I understand. So, Minerva told me the truth.-

Dumbledore's long fingertips intertwined, as waiting for something.

Severus spoke, without moving his eyes.

This freedom and these moments in which Dumbledore granted him the luxury of sincerity were so _dense. _He wasn't used at all.

Severus sighed a little, without losing his cutting tone.

- Yes, she did. The truth is I acted under the declared postulation that our _dear_ householder doesn't want me to join Grimmauld Place anymore.-

The old man almost sneered at him.

As usual, there was the first level external conversation, with open e direct words, and the second level, the internal one, in which Dumbledore understood everything that was going on, no matter what words or actions could be explicit.

- I genuinely hoped you two could get along better…I thought…especially for Harry's sake. He should not be exposed to some extra-distresses.-

- Maybe you expected too much, then…as usual, if I may express my humble opinion.-

- Alas! Foolish old men are always so eager to let their hopes match with real facts that sometimes they forget struggle and bitter turns of events.-

Dumbledore seemed immersed in his own thoughts.

- So you yourself say, Sir.-

Dumbledore stood up and started pacing up and down his office.

- To speak you frankly, Severus, I usually pride myself with my capability of looking at the bigger picture. And now – with no difference – I can tell there's a lot more displeasing you.-

Albus pierced him in that totally upsetting way, still so familiar.

Severus integrity faltered for a second, his mind naked in front of the other wizard.

- I can correctly assume, then, that you have something more to say to me.-

_This old…old, damned…_

- We…had a fight, Sir, Headmaster.-

- _Another_ one. – he sounded a little disappointed – The third in a row, if I recall correctly.-

- Yes. Another one, the third. And this time, for good measure, I…may have been…a bit…insulting.-

Dumbledore paused his walking and came near Severus slowly.

- Although – he began softly, almost with a easy tone, almost like they were discussing the last heavy snowfall - I completely understand your _past bygones, _Severus, I sincerely expected you to be more…well, at least, _less uncooperative. _Especially with him.-

Severus felt curiously caught red-handed and so, at the same time, he couldn't prevent his pale face to blush a little.

- He gets what he deserves. He hit me brutally and…-

- And he immediately took care of you, very enthusiastically too, if I'm not wrong. Don't forget, Severus, he asked me for advice, he was truly alarmed.-

- And what about me?-

- I likely believe, my friend, that you're not really in the position to decide what Sirius deserves and what he does not.-

- So, is repentance enough? His wild actions lightly forgiven?-

- I forgave _your_ actions and I accepted _your _repentance.-

Severus felt a unfathomable gush of mortification.

- UNFAIR!-

- I'm afraid this is quite the RIGHT comparison we should refer to.-

Severus trembled with fury.

Dumbledore always held the whip hand, no matter what was really going on between them.

And that CLUMSY IDIOT – this was totally abhorrent – always have had the others lucky comprehension…  
Why was he the only one always left behind?

_You're jealous, aren't you?_

Why wouldn't everybody just blame that brainless idiot?

_And yet…the other night…he was just trying to find…a way…to…_

He didn't care about his actions, he had been so…unforgivable.

_Dumbledore is right. He treated you with concern and respect…_

(_Not to mention his particular show of affection, down there…)_

- I remember Severus Snape being a lot of thing as a man, but never ungrateful.- stated expressionlessly Dumbledore.

That's what he despised the most: the way the old man made him constantly feel guilty and, at the same time, wishful to fulfill his expectations – which unmistakably were absurd and higher than everything else.

Why was Severus so eager to be praised, to be accepted?

- MPF.-

- Severus. Speak yourself clearly, _please_.-

- I…I don't understand. But I guess my unpretentious opinion doesn't count. After all, I'm a mere tool.-

- You should speak of yourself highly. You perfectly know my estimation of you, my friend. I'm only asking you to be more honest with yourself.-

- What about?-

Dumbledore cackled again, this time more clearly.

- May I affirm that you and the one you called the "householder" have an outstanding balance still going on?-

Why on earth was he smiling, anyway?

Severus' lips curled in acrimony.

- And what exactly made you reach this assumption, if I may ask?-

- I like to think that you two have still a lot to go through.-

- Unfortunately, I learnt to fear what you like to think, Sir.- snapped back Severus, his head reclined.

- I know you trust me, Severus. Then, trust my judgment too. Go to our friend, the householder – as you say -, and pay attention to what he really has to say.-

Severus wore his most despicable expression.

- You may find it…let's say, _interesting.-_

_- _As you wish, Sir.-

- I think you should go, now, Severus.-

- Yes, Headmaster.- he replied, clenching his teeth.

- And…Severus?-

- Yes, Headmaster?-

- Please, don't trouble yourself with humbleness. Your opinions have pleasantly never been modest. I hope they won't start now.-

- Thank you, Headmaster, Sir.-

:::::::::

- Molly?- called Arthur Weasley, only his head appearing in the kitchen.

- Molly, dear, have you seen Snape's last report?-

The plump ginger woman waved away from the sink, gave Sirius her peeled potatoes and dried her hands on the rag she always carried on her florid hip while cooking.

After having scattered all the remaining parchments of their last meeting, the woman said:

- I thought it was here, somewhere. Try with the books I just put in the living room, Arthur.-

Sirius watched thoughtlessly as Arthur went fetching the report and Molly came back to their lunch.

- Thanks for your help, Sirius, dear.- said the woman while they were arranging potatoes in the casserole.

- Nothing, Molly, my pleasure. At least I can be useful.-

- You look better, by the way.- added the woman with a earnest smile – Christmas must have really been a panacea!-

Sirius smirked but his insides stirred in guiltiness and shame.

He could pass for a decent imitation of a good man – Molly was undoubtedly appreciating his efforts - , sure, but he could not forget the alcohol, the days spent in a numb oblivion of solitude and his plastering rage about almost everything.

_His hands hitting Snape again._

- Talking about Snape – said Remus with his prompt astuteness – We haven't seen him much, lately.-

- We haven't seen him at all.- confirmed Arthur, re-entering the kitchen, his hands full of parchment rolls.

- Don't mess up the table, Arthur… - murmured Molly – Well, I hope he's doing well! I always ask him to stay but he always seems so…_allergic_ to us.-

- Don't bother yourself with Snivellus, Molly. I bet he's taking a cuppa with his little Death Eaters friends.-

And with this, Sirius knew he had sounded much more grieved than he would have want.

Remus, in fact, shot him with a rather quizzical look.

- Sirius! He's one of us!- started Molly, waving his wand to make the chicken roll better in the pan.

- He's…_the worst…_- followed Sirius, his voice a murmur, his hands busy with twigs of rosemary.

- Sirius, I know he can be…not pleasant, but…-

- Dumbledore believes in him and so we have to.- stated tiredly Arthur.

- I know, I know…let me be. I was just randomly hating him. Sometimes it helps…you know…-

Molly puffed, still in a lovely-mother-way, while Arthur nodded.

Nobody never had really faced "the Sirius-Black's-condition" problem, and the very person concerned with it thought it was because…basically there really wasn't something that can be done.

A part from, obviously, winning the bloody war once Voldemort would eventually had showed himself up.

In that moment, other members of the Order entered the room, chatting and sharing last bits of _the Daily Prophet_ rubbish-news.

Sirius finished set the table and they all attacked their food hungrily: the day had been long, the snow still freezing and the duty difficult.

Yet, sat on the corner near the fireplace, Sirius thought about Snape.

The man really had taken seriously his words.

Had he been too hostile?

Had Snape, perhaps, felt _offended_?

Hurt, in some way?

-…hat I was saying. Sirius…?Sirius!-

Well, none of his business.  
The man really wasn't worth his patience and his…

(_affection. You really are talking like…you could…)_

…respect.

The man was a lonesome, loathsome bloke.

- Sirius…Are you even listening to me?-

(_And how could he forget about his little erotic break with him, weeks ago?_)

Still it was so…sad…

- SIRIUS!-

He turned on his side and saw a bewildered Remus.

- _Munchgnam_Remus…What? Oh…_munchmunch_yes, bread, _Munchgnam_…-

Remus took the bread from his hands but didn't stop firing him his best inquiring look.

- MunchmunchgnW-hat now?-

- You know something, don't you?-

- Wh…what the _hell…_?!_-_

- Where is Snape? Why isn't he even showing up anymore during our meetings?-

Sirius stared at Remus, eyes wide opening and mouth still trying to chew a very demanding and tasteful piece of stew.

- I see. I knew there was something going on…- Remus patted him on the back – Eat now. We'll talk later.-

Sirius chomped his meat and potatoes rather absent-mindedly.

And even more distractedly, hours later, he found himself staring at the flames in the antique fireplace, all curled up over the over-used couch.

He had tried his best.

He had stated his pure detestation for Severus Snape with so much of the whole fiber of his body that then he had felt exhausted.

But Remus had looked skeptical and had simply said:

- "_The lady doth protest too much, methinks._" (1)-

Man, too sharp-witted, really!

And when Sirius had confessed, biting his own lips that he _DID _hurt the man, healed him and then hit him again, Remus hadn't hidden his shock at all but had waited for the rest.

And the rest was revealed, precisely, by a passing-by Kreacher who, while greeting "_Master and his dear friend Mr. Lupin_", muttered with a wicked timing that "_not only the bat-like ugly evil bloke,no_", now the "_filthy son of the dear Mistress_" had decided "_to go woolly woofter with the werewolf scum, TOO_!".

Remus had frozen and Sirius had kicked Kreacher out of the room with no mercy.

Then, against every single atom of his _Gryffindor_ self, Sirius had revealed his recently cooled-off interest for the over said bat-like ugly evil bloke .

He had this bizarre lust, this creepy _disease_, and he couldn't stop feeling haunted by it.

Confessing it aloud had been as awful as cutting himself open.

- I'm here to listen, not to judge. – Remus had smiled a bit – You should stop blaming yourself.-

And answering at Sirius furrowed brows, Remus had added:

- Really, mate, there's nothing wrong with _it_…-

No big deal, he had said.

Yes.

_No big deal, _pretty obvious.

It wasn't really Moony the one now struggling with this messy situation!

Sirius stretched his legs on the couch and took again the book left abandoned on the floor.

His copy of _Brian Gagwilde's_ _Jiggery Pokery and Hocus Pocus – _a token of his much brighter career as a young marauder-wizard – was all outworn and covered in faded handwritten notes.

He couldn't suppress a smirk.

On the header of the page he was now reading, near a not so nice spell (_what was that again? Ah, sure, forcing the hair into one's nose and throat_) , he saw an untidy slippery handwriting reciting:

_"Use against the ugliest of the Snivelluses"._

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Severus fidgets a bit with his travel cloak – yes, something like an imperceptible tremor.

Not even closely a token of his actual anxiety, to be honest.

He steps into the pure white snow outside Hogwarts Gates, then he chooses to _Disapparate_.

Where is he going, you ask?

Grimmauld Place, the kitchen, obviously.

The old fool's words echoing in his brain - _pay attention to what he really has to say – _Severus enters into Black's property.

He knows he's being a weakling idiot.

He knows he should be busying himself with more somber and deadly things.

But his mind – and far other _parts_ of him - keeps being somehow _fascinated_ with the thought of that overgrown ex-school hooligan.

And surely the vision now in his sight doesn't help the slightest resolution still lingering in his dear, old rancorous habits.

The room is pleasantly heated by the fire and there's no one around, except - obviously – for a man in the middle of his rich thirties, dozing off on the couch.

Flames dance above the beautiful features of his face and on the chaotic tangle of his limbs.

A blanket lies on the floor, rolled into a ball, while all around several books, piece of parchments and quills have been disseminated.

_Look at him. _

An exquisite example of a person who's at ease with his own impossible confusion.

An exquisite example of the person Severus will never be.

Luckily?

Unfortunately?

Severus can't tell, at this point.

More importantly, the drowsy man looks as beautiful as ever.

His messy dark hair – waved and almost touched by some aging signs - flows scrappily all around his face.

High cheek bones, straight nose, squared jaw and full, provocative lips.

He's lightly dressed, the old faded clothes stretched on his smooth, muscular body; hints of black tattoos peek from under the neckline.

Stunning.

No effort in this.

Amazing.

Such a noble appearance for such a fierce spirit…and still such a wild tongue.

But isn't this the obvious fascination?

Leave it to Sirius Black: being attractive and rude or, to state it more clearly, being attractive _because _being rude.

Mind's twists, one never can tell about them.

Really, there's no way Severus could stop staring.

He perceives the pull toward the man so he steps forward.

Unexpectedly, Sirius' face trembles a bit and he opens his eyes.

They're cloudy-grey and their sparkles fills Severus dark gaze.

Sirius' expression is now fully puzzled.

A bit relieved, maybe…?

- You're here.- he mumbles.

Severus is now frozen in the middle of the room.

The other doesn't really pay attention and stretches his arms, arches his back.

- MMMMMmmh – purrs – Wanna a cuppa?-

He asks and, without any answers, he goes to the stove, takes the kettle and conjures water.

- _Aguamenti – _he murmurs, still drowsy, and then, with a curious familiar tone (while scratching his head) – Mmmhh, I recognized your odor in the air.-

He smirks to himself.

Then, when he catches Severus' own astounded look, he kind of blushes.

- Er…I…Well, _you know…_- he drops his words, clearly embarrassed.

Severus feels confident: this time he can do…he can _be_ better than his usual self.

He approaches the stove and lightly waves his wand.

No words, and little flames start crackling under the kettle.

- If you let it boil instead of using magic, tea would actually be tastier.-

Sirius blinks repeatedly, clearly taken aback by their closeness.

Severus deep voice echoes again in the empty kitchen – his eyes now chained to Black's.

- Now, the cups.-

Sirius nods and mechanically reaches for two tea cups.

And while Severus wipes them off – a bit of a dust inside them, actually – Sirius looks for tea brews.

- I happen to have only teabags.- he says.

- At least quicker than regular leaves…-

He hands Sirius the two cups and then – another gentle wand's flip - extinguishes the tiny flames on the stove.

- Better not be completely boiling and…- he murmurs, handling the kettle - …better not let the water hit straightly the bags…-

Sirius beams, dimly: his eyes seem completely lost and fascinated by Severus skillful hands.

Then he laughs, recovering a bit of his bold tones:

- _Brewing_ _Tea with the Idiot. _You know, you could write an essay…-

- Watch your mouth – Severus curls his lips, a shadow of a smile – and be sure you picked exactly the tea I wanted.-

- I got it right, don't worry, _Professor_. Strong, green, no lemon, no sugar, no cream.- hums Sirius, shifting his weight on his side.

- Do you think I am some kind of _useless_ knick knack? – exclaims Sirius, answering to Severus skeptical look – I _saw_ your tastes. I do observe people, you know…-

Severus harrumphs, Sirius smirks; Severus's chest throbs , Sirius seems lost in his own thoughts.

No need for words.

They sip their teas silently and they don't bother their cozy nearness.

Nor they want to break their unusual intimacy.

Minutes engulfs with pleasant silence, only the fire crackling and the snow falling outside the slightly misty windows.

Sirius finishes his tea, almost gulping down the last drops, and starts using the sink.

Severus passes along his now empty cup.

Sirius grabs it.

Their hands share a patch of the other's boiling skin.

Severus muscles tenses and he knows at once Black did the same.

They exchange a rather cautious look, nearly vigilant.

Are they really themselves, now, _having a cuppa _together, like true friends would?

_MPF._

Severus calls not himself friend with anyone - except the old fool, maybe.

And still this silly, rough sketch of a wizard IS now in his presence, proper mannered and well-intentioned.

Treacherous, maybe?

He doesn't think so: Severus can read between the lines and the stubborn twit seems _abso-bloody-lutely_ earnest…

…even now, approaching him and facing him while nonchalantly shrinking their distances.

- I'm sorry.- he whispers.

- For your last one?- asks Severus, conscious about the fact that the other is now just some inches far from him.

- For everything.- trembles slightly Sirius voice.

Severus almost leaps – _he's sure the other's breath just faintly reached the tips of his own lips_ - and his hand takes a firm grip on Sirius' wrist.

And, with no surprise, Severus mind jumps to a deduction; as always, crystal-clear.

He may be dreadful and utterly indecent at sight.

He may be, actually, THE UGLY GUY.

He may not be gentle, pleasant or lively – well, he's well-mannered at least.

And, nothing new, he's known to be a mean person.

Yet, THE IDIOT standing in front of him is now willingly getting closer.

And, here's the big news, there's no disdain or disgust in his face.

On the contrary, he looks somehow _raptured _and his body literally _radiates_ heat…and…

…_other bloodcurdling, deep…drives…_

Severus is scared, Severus doesn't remember, maybe he actually has never known…

Sirius bits his lower lip.

- You can come in my house whenever you want.- murmurs Black - I won't annoy you.-

- I highly doubt it.- Severus firm grip on Sirius' wrist doesn't falter – And I hope I'm right.-

Seconds stumble and Black moves forward, his lips now slightly parted.

Sirius knows how to look magnificent.

Tantalizing.

Severus trembles.

And he's now having such a massive hard-on it hurts…

- Oi, _Padfoot_, is the water already boiling?-

The kitchen door slams open and they literally jump away from each other.

Remus Lupin enters, scruffy and out of breath.

- For Merlin soddin' beard...outside is freezing and I spent las-

He stops in the middle, speechless.

Severus knows the scene the _prying pillock _is watching is highly unmistakable.

He looks dumbfounded while Black is totally paralyzed.

Awkward enough.

Severus moves, takes his cloak and storms away.

He bows slightly to Lupin, his thin lips bent in a resentful frown.

Then, his hand already grabbing the doorknob, he turns and looks at Black.

- _See you_, then.-

And, without waiting for any other reply, he storms away.

Half of him is even chuffed.

* * *

(1) W. Shakespeare, _Hamlet_, Act 3, scene 2, 222–230. "Protests" is used like "Vows". This is a famous statement that, if used, stands for: you're insisting so much on affirming something that I'm really prone to believe you want/think the exact contrary. So, in this case, Sirius puts so much effort in declaring his hatred that Remus, who's not a gullible bloke, soon spots the actual truth.

* * *

**YUKI**:

I won't deny it. I was shamelessly having a rich cup of tea while writing this :).

See how subtle is the line between hatred and love?

Between repulsion and attraction?I see it, I tasted it.

When one despises often he's envying or desiring, if not the other himself, his state, his belongings, his way of being.

And sometimes his love too.

So useless trying to demonstrate the contrary, sometimes.

For often, when two people argue,**_ EXCUSATIO NON PETITA, ACCUSATIO MANIFEST_****A**, I think.

We're near the end, by the way. Stay tuned.

Yuki.


End file.
